Death Korps of Justice
by Lord-of-Change
Summary: A young Death Korp soldier, in a battle with a follower of Chaos, ends up swallowed by the Warp. By a stroke of luck, he's sent to Earth, to a world without an Emperor, to a world where villains and heroes battle it out across the globe. With no Emperor to serve and no war to fight, this young soldier must struggle to find his own path in a world that challenges all his beliefs.
1. Chapter 1: War on Distant Worlds

**Chapter 1: War on distant worlds**

Subsector Carolis, Segmentum Ultima. A minor and often overlooked sector under Imperial rule. Few Imperial Guard regiments were contributed by the five planets making up the sector. Instead, they provided the metals necessary to manufacture weapons and armor from its many mining operations. Of course, even that came to an end when the rulers of Carolis declared themselves independent from the Imperium.

Swift and violent battles broke out across the five worlds as the rebels mercilessly purged any loyalist forces that remained in the system. The last remnant of Imperial rule to fall was the frigate _Helljumper_. However, before she was boarded and her crew slaughtered, the captain managed to send out a distress signal. A warning that these traitors had floundered Imperial rule and was challenging the Emperor's vision of all of mankind united under one banner.

The Imperium's answer; six Imperial Guard regiments were redirected towards the Carolis subsector, two of which originated from the subsector and were eager to retake their homeworlds from the vile traitors. The remaining four regiments were as follows; one Elysian drop troops regiment, one Vostroyan firstborn regiment, one Tallarn desert raider regiment, and the last one was a regiment from one of the most feared and lethal forces available within the Departmento Munitorum.

The Death Korps of Krieg.

Battle was first joined in space, were the outgunned and inexperienced rebel fleet was obliterated, with few losses for the loyalists. Orbital bombardments followed that reduced hundreds of cities to rubble and sent the rebels scurrying for cover within the most heavily fortified cities available. A grueling year-long campaign followed, as the loyalists eradicated one rebel stronghold after another. Counter-attacks were attempted by the rebels, but their soldiers were ill-equipped and poorly motivated, not to mention lacking a coordinated system of command. Easy pickings for the battle hardened Elysians and Tallarns, who combined their forces to perform hit and run attacks coupled with aerial strafing runs to break the back of the rebels.

The Carolis regiments then simply smashed apart whatever was left with their chimeras and Leman Russ tanks. But as these four regiments swept away attacking enemy forces, that still left the task of cracking open the rebels' heavily fortified cities and bastions. A task the Death Korps took on with vigor. Within nine months, for out of five planets were liberated from rebel control and returned back to the fold, leaving only the Capital planet still standing firm against them.

Resistance was fierce, as the rebels fought tooth and nail to hold the line against the onslaught. Tens of thousands of men died in the opening days, the loyalists sometimes forced to climb over their own dead to reach the enemy. Nevertheless, the rebels were steadily forced back, inch by bloody inch, as their guns ran out of ammo and their guns got worn down. Eventually, the rebels found themselves besieged within the capital city of Helsink, the birthplace of the rebellion. Some would call it ironic that this would be where it was finally crushed. But even as death and defeat stared them in the face, the rebels dug in and awaited the attack with grim determination. Traitors were never shown mercy in the Imperium. They knew that they were dead men already, so the least they could do was sell their lives dearly.

The siege had now been dragging on for three weeks, with the loyalists' artillery relentlessly hammering away at the walls. The Elysians and Tallarns were more than happy to starve the rebels out. Victory was already theirs, the rebels were just too stubborn to see it, they reasoned. Besides, urban warfare was something they both abhorred, both preferring lightning warfare on open ground. But the Death Korps were adamantly against it. They wanted to storm the enemies' positions right away, in true Death Korps fashion. They were backed up by the Carolis regiments who were eager to finally deposit the usurper and crush the rebellion once and for all.

In the end, they won, and a full scale assault was planned. The attack was to take place the next day, and so word was quickly spread across the frontline to have their gear ready. As night fell across the battlefield, the soldiers enjoyed their meals with great gusto, knowing that for some this might be their last meal. Nevertheless, spirits were high in the camps, as many celebrated the fast approaching end to this grueling campaign. Cheers and songs echoed throughout the night sky as soldiers gathered around large campfires.

Such things would have normally been considered madness in a siege, but the rebels had stopped firing back with their artillery over a week ago. Either their guns had been destroyed or they had simply run out of ammunition. Either way, it meant it was safe to make fires. But even as preemptive celebrations were thrown, there was still one regiment who refused to partake; the Death Korps. These emotionless soldiers maintained their vigilance and were even double checking and even triple checking their gear. War was all they existed for, the battlefield was their second home. Joy and celebration had no place in their ranks.

Currently, a squad of Carolis guardsmen had made their own little fire, and was just enjoying each other's company as they joked and laughed together.

"I'm telling you, I can't wait for this war to end." One of them, a short fellow with the thickest beard one can imagine growing on his chin said before he took a swig from his mug.

"Aye, I know the feeling, Gus. It'll be good to finally kick that traitorous bastard's ass off of his throne." A second, middle-aged man, added thoughtfully.

"In that case, I call dibs on the first kick." A third, much younger man, suddenly piped up, eliciting laughs from his comrades. But amid their laughter, the one called Gus suddenly elbowed the one next to him. Once he had his attention, he pointed to something moving past their little group. That something turned out to be a Death Korps infantryman, carrying a bowl of food. Without even acknowledging the ten men squad he just walked past, he took a seat next to a chimera, nearly hidden in the dark shadows of the night.

The guardsmen all stared at him in curiosity, some even in trepidation, but the soldier never so much as glanced their way as he neatly placed his lasgun right next to him within easy reach should the need arise. The sudden silence that had descended upon the group was swiftly broken by the sergeant as he called out to the lone soldier.

"Hey lad, you shouldn't sit by yourself over there. Why don't you join us at our fire?" many in the squad sent him looks of disbelief. Was he seriously inviting a Death Korps soldier to eat with them? It was common knowledge among the regiment that you stayed as far away as possible from those suicidal killing machines. Still wearing his traditional helmet and gasmask, the soldier stared at the group before he wordlessly hoisted his lasgun over his shoulder and walked over to them. Some shuffling around later, and a spot had been cleared in their circle for the soldier, which he quickly occupied.

Still, silence remained over the group as the squad mates eyed each other dubiously while eyeing their newest companion inquisitively. The soldier remained quiet through the whole thing, did not even remove his mask, he just silently observed the squad before him. Something that was a bit unnerving for a few of them. Eventually, a light chuckle slipped out of the sergeant.

"You know, lad, I think it would be a hell of a lot easier for you to eat without that bloody mask on at all time. Don't you think, eh?" he questioned humorously with a grin on his face, yet still the soldier said nothing in return. Though at least he did seem to take the sergeant's words to heart as he slowly removed his mask and helmet. What they found underneath chocked them to their cores, for the soldier had the face of a young black haired boy; and I really mean young. The oldest one in their squad was twenty five, but this kid seemed even younger.

"How old are you, son?" the sergeant asked softly. The soldier turned his gray eyes, devoid of all manner of emotions, towards the sergeant.

"16." He answered monotonously, receiving a fair share of looks of disbelief. A fact he found strange.

"Holy shit! That young!" the middle-aged man from before burst out in surprise before his tone got a bit darker. "Does it even exist an age limit on how old a child must be before he can join the army?"

A nonchalant shrug of his shoulders was all the answer that he received from the soldier, who then proceeded to eat his ration. While the rest of the squad seemed content to just drop the matter and continue on as if he did not exist, the sergeant still pressed on.

"What's you name, son?" he questioned jovially, trying to appear friendly. Not that it seemed to affect the soldier in the slightest.

"769355-637566-Keled." He answered, sounding more like he as listing off the amount of ammunition he had left. Then again, no one in the Death Korps had ever cared about his name, he was just referred to as 'trooper' or 'soldier', just like everyone else. The sergeant scrunched up his face at the name.

"Keled it is then." He finally decided before stretching out a hand for Keled to shake. "Name's Keating."

Keled just stared at the offered hand in incomprehension, clearly having never experienced that form of greeting. Getting the message, Keating withdrew his hand a little awkwardly, but still pressed on.

"First campaign you've taken part in, I guess?" he asked casually, to which Keled merely nodded his head.

"If I remember correctly, all of you Death Korps regiments are from Krieg, right?" he asked, but never even waited for an answer before he continued. "Me and my fellows are from Carolis V, the one farthest out in the subsector. Our regiment were heading off to Emperor knows where when we got word that our homeworlds had revolted. So we turned around and headed back with all haste to retake what is ours." There was a hint of sadness in his tone, but also a bit of pride and anger, none of which Keled picked up on or understood. Emotions had always been a foreign concept to him.

"But after tomorrow, this will be all over, and peace will be returned to the sector." Keating continued with a dream-like tone in his voice as he stared far away, into the dark horizon. "When the battle is over, why don't you seek me out? I'll give you a tour of our capital. Or at least what's left of it."

A shake of his head was the answer he got. "Unlikely. When the rebels have been neutralized, we will be departing." Keled answered. A frown marred Keating's face as he leaned closer towards Keled.

"How do you know that?" he questioned. Keled stared back at him with dull and lifeless eyes, eyes of someone who expected death at any second and accepted it.

"That's the way of the Death Korps of Krieg. When one war is won, we depart to the next one, only stopping to resupply and replace our losses." He replied, still as monotonous as ever. A sigh slipped out of Keating's mouth.

"That sounds like a hard life. Always moving from one war to the next." He remarked, to which Keled did nothing more than shrug.

"It's the Death Korps lives." Was all he said on the matter before he stood back up. "Permission to leave, sir?"

"Permission granted." Keating said tiredly. Keled gave a crisp military salute before walking away, lasgun slung over his shoulder.

* * *

_(A word of warning. The following scenes will get really bloody, 40k style.)_

Dawn. Whistles rang across the lines, cannon fire boomed like thunder and aircraft engines howled through the air. All across the battle lines, loyalist troops were rushing into positions, boarding either aircraft transports or armored troop transports. Naturally, the first wave would consist of the Death Korps, and it was here that we found Keled boarding a Gorgon Armored Assault Transport, along with the rest of his platoon. The last one on board was the Watchman before the door closed. With fifty men all crammed together, there was little room for maneuverability, and Keled could do nothing more than tightly grasp his lasgun while waiting.

At some unheard command, the assault began as the Gorgon began rumbling forward. The grinding noise of thousands of tanks rolling across the landscape was accompanied by the roar of fighters and bombers as they streaked through the air above, something that Keled could observe from the roofless troop transport. Then the fireworks started as AA fire ripped through the skies. A mad dance erupted in the skies as the loyalist pilots tried to steer clear of the incoming fire.

Some were obviously not lucky, as Keled watched a Vulture Gunship get its wing blown off, sending it on a wild spin through the air before coming down like a meteor towards the ground. He was not certain whether it was the gunship exploding he heard or if it was merely an artillery shell hitting its mark. But the air force was dishing out as good as they got, as above Keled, hundreds of fighters unleashed their missile payload in a devastating barrage. Keled did not see the damage, but he sure as hell heard it as a huge procession of cacophonic explosion shook the very ground.

Though it seemed like the enemy was not down for the count just yet, as when the Gorgon drew closer, explosion just outside the transport alerted Keled of enemy return fire. A huge ball of fire suddenly rose up from the ground next to the Gorgon, along with bent metal pieces and human bodies. Another transport most have been hit pretty badly. Something ricocheted off the hull of the gorgon, causing it to shake violently and knocked a few unprepared soldiers off their feet.

More explosions echoed from outside the transport, and Keled was sure he could at some points make out the distinguished sound of a tank going up in flames. But not once did he feel fear, not even as the Gorgon was rocketed back and forth by glancing hits nor as the heavy stubbers mounted on it began opening fire. Fear was something he had never known, something he had never bothered to learn about. It was an emotion, and as the drill instructors back on Krieg had literally beat into him, emotions only got in the way of your duties on the battlefield.

If there was one emotion that was accepted, or at the very least tolerated within the Korps, it was hate for your enemies. But Keled had never bothered with it. Why hold hate for something you were going to kill anyway?

But he did however feel a small amount of surprise when some kind of armor piercing round punched through the front ramp of the Gorgon and cut a bloody path through the packed crew compartment. Dozens of men were scythed down simply because they had no room to dodge. The soldier standing next to Keled got his arm and entire shoulder ripped off, spraying both of them with blood. The soldier collapsed to the floor on his knees, rapidly bleeding out. He looked up at Keled and said on single sentence.

"I can't fight anymore." Naturally, it meant more than that, and Keled easily understood the meaning. He could not fight anymore, and would die soon anyway. But as long as he lived, he was in the way for those who could still fight. So Keled brought up his lasgun and without so much as a second of consideration, plunged his bayonet into the soldier's throat and through his neck. A few gurgling noises slipped out of him before his lifeless body slid off of Keled's bayonet. No one so much as glanced their way through the ordeal and Keled merely cleaned off the blood on his bayonet and returned to waiting, never even mourning the comrade he had just killed.

The Gorgon suddenly began tilting upwards, and the ground became more uneven if the numerous bumps were an indication. It could only mean one thing: they had reached the enemies' lines. The same thought raced through everyone onboard, as lasguns were raised, bayonets were fastened and safeties were turned off. With a last rumble from its engines, the Gorgon came to a lurching stop. Time slowed down, all grew quiet in Keled's ears, each man held his breath. Then, the assault ramp was lowered and the Death Korps were charging out of their transport. Straight into enemy fire.

The first ten to clear the ramp went down within seconds, their bodies riddled with holes. But their deaths allowed for the next ten to advance even further before they too were gunned down. And through this maelstrom of las- and stubber fire Keled charged alongside his comrades, heedless of danger. A soldier in front of him got his head blown off, no doubt from autocannon fire. His body was about to topple over, but Keled acted quickly and grabbed hold of it. He then charged on, using the body of his comrade as a meat shield.

More soldiers were falling by the minute, but more just kept on coming. Finally, when his makeshift shield was about to fall apart from the number of shots it had taken, Keled threw it aside and came face to face with the rebels, holed up behind barricades made by sandbags and rocks. They were a pathetic sight, dressed in rags and whatever guardsmen armor they could scrape up. But while they stared in fear at Keled, he leaped right over their cover. His first kill was a bayonet through the throat. The second was as he pulled out the bayonet and fired a trio of las shots straight in the face of the one behind his first kill.

Another rebel took aim on him from the side, but Keled threw himself forward while twisting around until he had the enemy in his sight again. He had fired off another four shots before he even hit the ground. The rebel went down, screaming in pain from the mortal wounds inflicted across his stomach and chest. Keled was back on his feet in no time, just in time to receive a rebel charging him with a bayonet while screaming like a madman. He easily swatted the weapon away with his own before driving the back end of his lasgun straight into the face of the rebel, breaking his nose an sending him flat on his back.

And execution shot to the head later and Keled was moving on to his next enemy. More Death Korps were now climbing over the barricades, and more rebels poured in to stem the flow. Keled drove his bayonet through the chest of one rebel, but as the corpse fell over, it dragged his gun with it and left Keled unarmed as another one came at him. He sidestepped the bayonet thrust before he kicked the gun away. Stepping in close, he rammed his elbow into the rebel's throat, crushing his windpipe. One of Keled's comrades were wrestling for control over a lasgun with a rebel, so Keled stepped up behind the rebel, grabbed his head in a headlock and broke his neck. The comrade he had helped only gave a small nod of acknowledgement before rushing back into the fray.

Another Death Korp rushed past Keled, but a stubber round tore through his chest and he fell over. The fallen soldier's masked eyes landed on Keled, and seeing that he was unarmored, reached out and offered his own lasgun. Keled snatched it up and took aim on the stubber wielding rebel who shot his comrade. Five shots later, and he was down for the count. Without missing a beat, Keled charged at another rebel, ramming his bayonet into the guts and giving it a nice twist before kicking the rebel off of the bayonet.

Someone suddenly jumped onto his back and tried to strangle him. He tried shaking the assailant off, but nothing worked, and his grip on Keled's throat tightened. Finally, he collapsed to the ground on his back, his attacker beneath him. Yet still he refused to let go. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and his attacker kept screeching in his ear. He suddenly smashed his helmeted head back, being rewarded with a sickening crack followed by a cry of pain. Not letting up in the slightest Keled rammed his head back again and again and again. Only when the fingers around his throat grew slack did he let up and staggered back up to his feet.

He only gave quick glance at the cracked open skull of his attacker before he hefted his lasgun and charged another rebel. He barreled over him before putting a single shot in his head, even as he held up his hands as a sign of surrender. The whirring of a chainsword suddenly reached his ears over the dim of battle, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh being torn apart by said weapon. Turning to where it was coming from, Keled found a rebel sergeant bisecting a Krieg soldier before gutting another one.

Without a second thought, Keled charged towards the sergeant. Two rebels put themselves in his way. The first one was shot straight on the heart, a merciful death, while the second one received three shots to the guts, falling over and wailing in agony. But he did get off on shot that nailed Keled in the leg, but he ignored the pain and charged on. The sergeant quickly spotted him, and with a savage war cry charged as well.

Keled tried skewering him, but he sidestepped before bringing his chainsword in a decapitation arc that Keled dodged underneath. The sergeant pushed on with a flurry of wild swings aimed at Keled, but he kept dodging and ducking as if it was child's play. He suddenly struck out with his bayonet, piercing the sergeant's leg before withdrawing out of range from his sword. The sergeant howled in pain and collapsed to one knee.

Keled tried to take advantage of that, but the sergeant furiously swung his roaring chainsword at him to keep him at a distance. Another rebel must have seen his superior's plight as he charged at Keled while screaming like a savage. Keled blocked the bayonet with his own before he stepped closer and with a mighty push, rammed it in-between the legs of the rebel. He was never even given a chance to scream out in pain before a powerful uppercut from Keled snapped his head back and sent him off to la-la land. But the sergeant had taken advantage of his opponent's distraction to climb back up on his feet and was now facing Keled again with fury burning in his eyes.

"Death to the false Emperor!" he roared with absolute hatred before he charged at Keled, chainsword held in a two-handed grip. Keled's way of answering was with a silent prayer to the Emperor before he too charged with his bayonet. They were upon each other within a matter of seconds, ready to end their little duel. But it was then that Keled did something unexpected: he threw himself forward and glided along the ground on his knees. It did not take him very far, but it got him underneath the sergeant's defenses, where he rammed his bayonet upwards. It pierced right underneath his ribs and punctured a lung. Keled pushed the back end of his lasgun against the ground to steady it as he literally threw the sergeant right over him.

The poor man landed face first into the stone ground, dazed and suffocating in his own blood. Keled wasted no time in getting back up on his feet and placed three las shots right in the sergeant's chest.

"Retreat! Retreat!" the call suddenly rang out across the blood soaked battlefield, but it was not coming from the loyalists. Within moments, the rebel forces were in a panicked and disarrayed retreat. No, that was not correct; it was not a retreat, it was a rout. Death Korps troops rushed past Keled in pursuit of their enemy, and Keled just hefted his lasgun again and ran after them. The first line of the enemy had fallen, but there was still a whole city left to capture.

* * *

Deeper and deeper into the city, did the Death Korps push the rebels. On many occasion, they would try to turn around and fight back, clogging up the tight hallways with the dead and the dying. But the Death Korps were relentless in their attack and the rebels were always forced to flee yet again. It was through these narrow corridors that Keled charged along. His helmet was dented, his greatcoat was torn and bloodied, and he had developed a noticeable limp in his right leg, courtesy of the stubber round embedded there.

But never did he slow down, never did he allow the pain from his wounds and his aching muscles to affect him. He was going to fight on to the bitter end, and if it cost him his life then so be it, at least then he would die fighting on his legs. The Krieg way. More gunfire suddenly echoed from up ahead, the rebels must have found their dropped balls again and turned around to face them for like the tenth time.

Coming up to a sudden left turn in the hallway, Keled found about a dozen Krieg soldiers dead out in the open, most of them shredded into chunks of meat, with more crowding to get a clear shot at the rebels. At the head was a Watchman, seemingly debating whether to play it safe or just charge headlong into enemy fire. A sudden weak groan right beneath Keled alerted him that someone was still alive. That someone happened to be a wounded rebel.

"Mercy…" he pleaded with outstretched hands from where he lay on the cold floor. But he received no mercy from Keled as he rammed his bayonet right through his skull. No prisoners, no mercy, that was how war was fought.

"For the Emperor! Charge!" the Watchman suddenly shouted, sabre and laspistol held high as he charged around the corner. He was swiftly followed by the rest of the soldiers, and Keled found himself charging along. As he rounded the corner, he found the rebels had set up a heavy stubber and was spewing out rounds as fast as possible. Las- and stubber fire raced back and forth in the hallway and soldiers fell in droves on both sides. But even with the heavy stubber, the rebels could not stem the onslaught coming at them. As Keled charged on, something ricocheted off his helmet, a las round hit him square in the stomach but did not penetrate his armor and another las round burrowed its way into his left shoulder right beneath his shoulder pad.

Seconds later, the two sides met in a clash of flesh and steel. The soldier in front of Keled was turned to bloody confetti by the heavy stubber firing at point-blank range. Without a single hesitation Keled leaped atop the heavy stubber and fired six shot into the gunner before coming down bayonet first into the loader. He kicked aside the body and drove his bayonet into the side of another rebel. The man howled in pain right before three other bayonets pierced his chest and he was thrown aside. A rebel made a swing with a sword at Keled, but he ducked underneath it and swept the man's legs out from underneath him. The moment he landed on the ground Keled put a las round square in his head.

Within minutes, the rebels had all been massacred and the Death Korps moved onward. What they found beyond the rebel line was a golden door, no doubt leading into the throne room. They tried pushing it open, but it was barricaded from the other side.

"Demo charges to the front! Now!" someone shouted. Seconds later, a path had been cleared to the doors that a pair of engineers was rushing along. The soldiers withdrew to a safe distance as the engineers began setting up the explosives.

"Demo charges placed, sir!" one of them shouted before the sprinted away from the door. "Fire in the hole!" that was the only warning given before with a push of a button, the doors went up in smoke and flames. Without even waiting for the smoke to clear, the Death Korps charged headlong into the unknown. But what they found on the other side was not what they had expected. There were no rebel soldiers blocking their path, because they were all dead. Their blood stained all surfaces of the throne room, and many of their corpses were placed on pikes in the center of the room, where a robed man was standing inside the foulest of symbols known to man.

The Eight-Pointed Star.

"So at last do the Emperor's slaves come before me." The robed man proclaimed as he brought out a book from within his robes. "But you are too late to stop us."

With no further Avado, he opened the book and began chanting in a foul language that hurt one's ears. Having waited long enough, Keled and his comrades raised their lasguns and as one opened fire on the heretic. But their efforts were in vain, as a force field of some kind sprung up around him, deflecting the incoming fire.

"Ranged weaponry doesn't work on him, so we'll take him with bayonets! Charge!" someone shouted. That was all the explanation the Death Korps needed as the lowered their guns like spears and charged. But the heretic merely laughed at what he saw as a useless gesture.

"You fools! Your bravery will get you nowhere! I will tear your flesh from your bones!" he shouted maniacally before blasts of eldritch lightning lashed out from his fingertips. Dozens went down in an instant, their flesh being literally torn off the bodies by the psychic power. But Keled never faltered, he charged on even as his comrades were torn apart all around him. There was no fear, no trepidation, no doubt. He was going to put an end to that foul heretic if it was the last thing he did in this life.

The one charging next to Keled suddenly exploded in a shower of bones and flesh as the psychic powers ripped him apart and sent Keled tumbling to the ground from the shockwave. He tried to stagger back up again, but unbearable pain was wracking his body and sending him into violent spasm. Some kind of psychic attack must have hit him. His vision grew darker, even as he heard with greater clarity as the maniacal heretic obliterated everyone facing him while laughing like the madman he was.

Then it all became silent again. The butchery was apparently over, and the heretic was still standing. The vile fiend gave an unimpressed scoff at the futile effort done by the Death Korps.

"Idiots. This is what awaits all who opposes the might of Chaos." He muttered darkly to himself before he turned back to his blasphemous ritual. At those words, something stirred within Keled. Even as pain tore him apart from the inside out, he found determination flooding his veins. This was not how it was going to end. Chaos would not win, it would never win. Not as long as there were those willing to fight it.

With a monumental effort, Keled forced his eyes open and rolled over onto his hands and knees. Even as the eldritch powers continued to press down on his tortured body like the hand of a god, Keled stubbornly forced himself back on his feet, clutching his lasgun tightly in his hands. Slowly, he forced one foot forward, then the next, then another step, and another, and another. With pure willpower did he push onward, every step bringing him closer towards the unsuspecting heretic who had turned his back on the slaughter he had just committed.

His goal became clear when the very air in front of him began to split and tear. Foul energy spilled out like oozing blood from the wound in reality. That madman was seeking to open a portal into the Warp. Step by agonizing step, Keled drew closer to his quarry, until he stepped inside the blasphemous circle drawn on the floor. Only then did the heretic become aware that he was not alone as he spun around and beheld the approaching soldier in shock and fear.

"No! That's impossible! You shouldn't be able to stand!" he exclaimed frightfully. With the Warp Gate in the process of being opened, he could not divert his power to deal with this pest without getting dragged into the Warp along the way. Meaning he was completely defenseless against this lone soldier. Closer and closer did Keled draw towards the heretic, even as pain the likes of which he had never experienced worked to force him on his knees. But he would not bend so easily.

"Wait!" the heretic suddenly cried out in panic. "It doesn't have to be like this! I never wanted to call upon the Gods of Chaos! I know of their evil, but your Imperium forced my hand in order to save my people! If you withdraw now, I'll break off the spell and never use it again!" his attempts at saving his life was in vain as Keled raised his bayonet, making ready to plunge it into his black heart.

"If you interrupt the ceremony now, the Warp will claim us both! Do you understand me?! You will be dragged into the realm of daemons to be picked apart by its denizens! You'll never join your precious Emperor in the afterlife!" the raving madman was now screeching out whatever he could think of to buy time, but Keled was deaf to his words of warning.

"So be it." That was all Keled said on the matter, voice as dead as his comrades, before he plunged his bayonet straight through the chest of the heretic and into his heart. A startled gasp was all that left his mouth before the Warp Gate began to writhe and crack, the foul energy it had been seeping out beginning to get dragged back to the pits that spewed it out. But the Warp was not leaving the material plane empty-handed, as it began to drag with it the corpse of the heretic that summoned it, taking his killer as a bonus as well.

Keled wanted to fight back, but there was no strength left in his body, and he had fulfilled his task. He was content with what he had accomplished, and accepted the cruel fate that awaited him. And so it was, that when the Warp Gate closed, it had dragged Death Korps soldier Keled with it, to face whatever torture and madness that awaited him on the other side.

* * *

Falling. That was all Keled felt. Just falling, and falling, but never reaching a bottom. He did not even bother to open his eyes, knowing already that there was nothing of logic or value for him to see in this ocean of madness he had been dragged into. Screams of agony and howls of joy echoed all around him in a deafening cacophony, sounding like it was miles away yet mere inches away at the same time. Deeper into the abyss he plunged, falling for aeon yet at the same time seconds.

Foul things caressed him, their slithery touch being felt on his skin even when he was wearing full Death Korps gear, sending chills of revulsion down his spine. He could feel how the twisted denizens of this realm were closing in on him, like wolves circling a prey. They were taking their time, savoring the meal to come. But even though he knew that death was upon him, Keled felt no fear, just peace and calm. He could not fight these immaterial beings, but he could make their coming meal bittersweet by denying them the satisfaction of hearing him scream in pain or fear.

Closer and closer they came, their corrupted breath tickling his skin as if he was naked and not fully armed. _'Here it ends then.'_ He thought grimly as his body relaxed, waiting for the jaws of his killers to sink into his flesh. The thing was however, they never came. Instead, Keled felt something tugging at him. An invisible force dragging him away from the predators, to their great fury and displeasure if the sudden roars of outrage were anything to go by.

No longer did Keled feel like he was falling, now he felt like he was being dragged after a Land Speeder. More predators of the Warp tried to claim him, but he felt more than saw how whatever was pulling him along was moving far too rapidly for the denizens of the Warp to ever hope of catching up. Soon, the nightmarish sounds that flowed through the warp were gone, replaced by a swirling noise. Only now did Keled dare open his eyes to behold what he had fallen into. What he found was not what he had expected.

He was no longer in the twisting and burning inferno that was the Warp, at least he assumed he no longer was. What he was tumbling through now was a tunnel made out of crystal blue water, swirling like a maelstrom. And down this rabbit hole did Keled tumble end over end towards the unknown. Then, he saw it, a light at the end of the tunnel, coming ever closer. In Keled's mind, it could only be one thing; the Emperor reaching out to claim his servant from the maws of Chaos, to finally be at rest. _'Peace, at last.' _Keled thought as he closed his eyes, embracing what was undoubtedly the end of his mortal existence.

However, he was to be disappointed in that regard, seeing as when he was spitted out of that tunnel, he was not met with the Father of all Mankind and a blissful existence at his side. What he got instead was being dumped painfully on solid rock. Despite himself, he could not help but let out a painful groan. Nevertheless, a Death Korp never died lying down, so he slowly and unsteadily crawled back on his feet with aching muscles. But when he at last managed to stagger upright again and opened his eyes, he was met with a most peculiar sight.

Two men were facing off against each other in a spacious hall filled with glass cages, though both had apparently forgotten about each other and instead devoted their attention to Keled. Their choice of armament was also… a bit unusual. The one closest to him was dressed in all black, with a cape and a mask shaped like that of a bat (I don't know whether a Death Korp would be familiar enough with bats to draw that conclusion or not, but just roll with it here). Strangely enough, he seemed to lack any form of weapons, unless he was carrying something in that belt of his.

The second one was also largely dressed in black, but he was wearing at least some manor of armor, along with weapons in the form of a sword on his back and a sidearm holstered in his belt. The man had long white hair tied up in a ponytail as well, but what really defined him was the half black, half orange mask with only one eye hole.

Confusion dominated in Keled's mind at that point. Just where had he landed? Was he still in Imperial territory? How did he even end up here? At least those two looked human enough to him, so he had not landed on a xeno world, that was something at least. But that still left the question: where they friend or foe?

"Who are you?" the bat-themed man suddenly demanded with a dark and menacing voice.


	2. Chapter 2: The Mysterious Soldier

_First off, I would like to point out a small matter concerning language. In the Young Justice universe, they obviously speak English to one another mostly, but the language used in the 40k Imperium of Man is Imperial Gothic. Now, I have no idea how it sounds or what type of letters they use or anything like that, and in spin-off games and movies, they speak plain old English. so for that reason, I'm going with the idea that Imperial Gothic is just futuristic version of English, just so our main character can understand what other people are saying._

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Mysterious Soldier**

Gotham City. A dark, gritty an inhospitable city that housed some of the most vile and dangerous psychopaths on Earth. It was also the home of the fabled Batman, leader of the Justice League. Some might call his tactics and modus operandi as a bit too harsh and brutal for a hero. But the truth was, that was the only way to keep order in a city balancing on the edge of anarchy. It was, in essence, a never ending battle to protect those that sought to live peacefully in this city.

And it was in the service of this duty that Batman was out patrolling on this dark night. But of course, he was not alone in this mission, had not been for four years now. Accompanying him was his ever trustworthy partner, Robin. So together, the dynamic duo was sailing through the night sky, going from rooftop to rooftop.

"Man, it's been kinda quiet around here, don't you think?" Robin suddenly asked in boredom. Understandable, he was itching for some action. His mentor however did not share his view, as he gave Robin a sideways glance.

"Three muggings and one robbery this night." He stated in that gruff and intimidating voice of his. Naturally, Robin was not intimidated, because he had worked long enough with Batman to recognize it as his default voice when in costume.

"You know what I mean, that's practically what we run into every night. There's been no real action around here for like ages." Robin complained as he performed a somersault over an alley.

"And that likely means that the villains are planning something and we should keep our guard up." Batman countered easily. Robin could not argue with that logic and said no more on the matter. Still, he wished that _something_ would happen. However, there was still one other matter he felt like discussing with his mentor, something really important.

"You know, Bats, I've been your protégé for about four years now." He began a little hesitantly, debating how to approach the matter. Batman said nothing, but gave a small nod as an indication that he was listening.

"And I have proven that I can handle things on my own, so I was wondering if you could consider…" here Batman stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Robin, a stern expression underneath his cowl.

"We've been over this before, you're not ready to be inducted into the League." He stated with finality. But Robin was not about to throw in the towel just yet.

"Oh come on! I've been up against baddies like the Joker and Mr. Freeze, and I've come out on top." He protested loudly, but Batman remained stoic.

"You never faced them alone. I was always there with you." He pointed out calmly.

"But how many other heroes have ever even met them at all! I'm telling you, Bruce, I'm ready!" Robin countered heatedly, accidentally letting Batman's secret identity slip out of his mouth. Batman gave him a sharp glare over that slip-up, to which Robin finally registered his mistake. Anyone could have been within earshot right now and heard that tidbit of information. He timidly lowered his head while muttering a quiet "Sorry."

Batman's expression softened somewhat and he let out a tired sigh. Honestly, he could understand why Robin was so eager to become a League member. Wherever they went, and whoever they fought, Robin was more often than not dismissed as just a minor nuisance or an annoyance. While that served to give Robin the definitive edge in battle, with his opponents underestimating him, he always became aggravated when he was overlooked just because of his size and age.

To him, becoming a League member was a way to solidify his position as a hero to take seriously. But even if he understood Robin's plight, he was not going to let his protégé go up against the kind of villains that the Justice League fought on a daily basis. It was his duty as not only the boy's mentor, but also as his adoptive father, to keep him safe. Some might call it hypocrisy, given how he trained him to be a vigilante, but he had his reasons. With Robin's parents dead and their murderer walking free, he would have become a crime fighter either way. At least this way, Batman was there to prevent him from going down a darker path from which there would have been no going back from.

"We'll talk more about this later on." Batman finally decided before he fired his grapple gun and swung away. Robin lingered behind for just a few seconds before he followed.

"So not feeling the aster." He muttered quietly to himself.

* * *

Normally, one would think that the most valuable items would be locked up in a vault or a secret compound. That however would not be entirely accurate, for there was another site were valuable items would be stored, and in plain sight for all to see as well; a museum. Artifacts from ancient times were often unearthed all over the globe, most of which were nothing more than mere trinkets with purely archeological values. But there were the rare founds that held more to them then what one would assume at first sight. Be they alien tech left behind by visitors during ancient time, or mystical artifacts created by the hands of sorcery, these potent finds were more than once overlooked by the ones that found it.

So, with no knowledge of what those object might be containing, they were often shipped off to be displayed in a museum for profit. Sadly, there always existed someone with at least a fraction of knowledge concerning these lost objects. And when they find the object on open display, they are more often than not afraid to use less than savory mean to acquire it. This scenario was being played out in Gotham City. The object in question was an amulet that had been recently discovered in an ancient temple deep within the Amazonian rainforest. There was nothing remarkable about the object, save for a symbol carved on its front.

In today's society, that symbol held no relevance whatsoever. But in another time and another place, that symbol had become an object of hatred and revulsion in the Imperium; for it was the Eight-Pointed Star of Chaos. And, of course, someone recognized the mystic value it possessed, and sought to claim it for themselves. And in true supervillain mastermind style, that person hired someone else to do all the dirty work. But it was not just anyone that had been hired, oh no. for Gotham was after all the Batman's territory, and only the best could be counted upon to get the job down.

So it was, that the one hired to steal the amulet, was none other than Slade Wilson. Or, as he was more popularly known among heroes and villains: Deathstroke the Terminator, the most lethal assassin on Earth. Some might call it overkill to send someone of his caliber to complete a mere theft, but his employers preferred to call it 'being on the safe side'. Currently, Deathstroke had just slipped inside the museum, avoiding every security system in place like it was child's play, which it in fact was to someone like him.

But skill and experience can easily be trumped by something that is all but impossible to predict, something that has led to the downfall of many great men through history. A simple case of bad luck. And what type of bad luck did Deathstroke come across? The fact that a bunch of amateurs had decided to plunder the museum as well, and they were anything but subtle in their means. Within seconds, alarms were ringing all over the museum, and Deathstroke swore that if he ever found the culprit, he would gut the bastard.

Throwing stealth and caution to the wind, he sprinted down the corridors towards his goal. Gunfire soon reached his ears, indicating that a firefight had ensued somewhere in the building. That at least worked in his favour. Those idiots would attract most of the attention, leaving him free to grab the prize and get the hell out. Soon, he had reached his goal, a spacious room filled with glass cages containing all manner of antiquities. But he ignored all of them, his eye was on only one object, placed against the wall and pushed a bit into a corner. Probably considered as a less interesting object to behold.

Not even bothering with finesse here, Deathstroke merely smashed the glass apart and picked up the amulet. He held it up at eye level, observing it critically in case it was just a fake. Nope, it seemed to be the real deal in Deathstroke's eye. So with a satisfied smirk on his lips, he turned around and walked away. Sadly, he did not get very far before a batarang came flying in and knocked the amulet right out of his hand, cutting open a shallow wound on his hand and sending a few droplets of blood onto the amulet in the process.

"Batman. I must admit that your response time was much faster than I had anticipated." Deathstroke calmly remarked as he turned around to face what seemed like nothing but shadows. And without warning, he suddenly ducked right underneath a kick that came from behind. Catching it in his grip, he threw Batman right into another glass cage before charging the hero. He sent a punch that was ducked under, leaped back to avoid a return blow, latched out with a kick that Batman caught before striking out with his other foot and nailing Batman in the side.

Deathstroke landed on his hands and pushed off right back at Batman, who rolled clear before spinning around with a punch that Deathstroke deflected, followed with a sudden uppercut that nailed Deathstroke. He staggered back and Batman pressed on, but Deathstroke ducked under a swing and drove both his fists into Batman's stomach. He then struck out with a kick, a punch, another punch, an uppercut and a kick before sidestepping a kick and somersaulting over Batman. Before Batman could turn around and face him, a kick in the back sent him sprawling on the floor. Though a bit stunned, he at least had enough sense to roll clear of a descending knee that cracked the floor.

He rolled over onto his knees before he threw smoke pellets to the ground, enveloping them both in smoke. Deathstroke sadly found that he had lost sight of Batman in the smoke, something that never boded well for anyone who had the misfortune of facing the dark knight. Crouching low, he awaited the inevitable attack. It came sooner than expected, as Batman suddenly came diving in from Deathstroke's blind side with a powerful blow to the head. He was sent sailing back, but managed to turn his fall into a roll that brought him back to his feet crouched low. As the smoke dissipated, the two combatants stared each other down, neither making a move.

Yet despite that Batman was foiling his plan, Deathstroke was in fact grinning underneath his mask. He always enjoyed a good battle. The tougher the opponent was, the better. And Batman was indeed a worthy opponent.

"Tell me something, Batman, where is that little sidekick of yours?" he suddenly asked smugly. And he was in fact curious as to where he could be, seeing as he could potentially be lurking about just waiting for a chance to strike. Batman meanwhile did not say anything, but a hardened gaze alerted Deathstroke that he had stumbled into dangerous territory.

"It must be nice, to have someone at your side in battles. A young mind you can mold into what you desire, who could follow in your footsteps when you've grown old and weak." Deathstroke commented offhandedly. "I must admit, there are times I myself wonder what it would be like to have a protégé of my own."

If the two combatants were planning anything else, they never got a chance to carry it out as the amulet that Deathstroke was after began to glow. Both their attention was drawn to it the moment it began emitting a humming noise that grew louder and louder. It rose into the air, blue energy pulsating from it like a heartbeat. That energy soon began to build up, growing larger and larger with each passing moment. Soon, it began shape itself into the form of a humanoid figure. Then, in a shower of sparks and light, it exploded like a shell and deposited whatever it was it had created onto the ground.

A pained groan alerted them that whatever it was still lived, but the light had left them temporarily blinded and were therefore unable to see it just yet. When their eyesight finally returned, they were greeted by a stranger in military styled garbs struggling to stand back up. But while both Batman and Deathstroke could tell that he was wearing a military uniform, neither was able to recognize it. He was wearing a heavy greatcoat, metallic shoulder pads, a gasmask and a helmet. But what was more, he looked like he had come straight out of a battle, with multiple holes and tears in his uniform, blood covering most of his greatcoat, the helmet being heavily dented and the favoritism of his left leg over his right leg telling them that it was damaged.

With its task completed, the amulet lost its shine and dropped back to the floor, not that anyone present seemed to even notice it. Upon catching sight of Batman and Deathstroke, the strange soldier froze up, and they both got the feeling that he was scrutinizing them both underneath that gasmask of his. A tense three-way standoff ensued, as the trio each waited for the others to make the first moves.

But while they all waited for who would blink first, Batman's ever famous paranoia was working overtime. Too many unanswered questions, and way too many bad case scenarios had materialized alongside this soldier. His loyalties were in the dark, how he came to be here was unknown, what type of threat he could pose was unclear and he could go on all day about every other fact that was shrouded in darkness. Then there was the state he was in. it was a miracle he could even be standing at all.

"Who are you?" Batman eventually growled out. Not that he expected an answer that would give much information, but it was a way to push things along. Either way, this soldier was a possible threat, and needed to be apprehended and interrogated.

But while Batman was drawing up plans on how to neutralize this new player should he prove uncooperative, Deathstroke was observing this strange soldier in curiosity. The guy at least looked like he could hold his own in a fight, if those wounds were an indication, but where had he come from?

"I could ask you the same question." The soldier responded coldly, with not so much as a grain of emotion in his voice. But if any more words were supposed to be exchanged, they were put on hold as a fourth player entered the field. You see, sometime after the soldier's appearance, Robin had caught up with his mentor after having taken care of the other gang of robbers. But he hesitated to act upon seeing that there was a third person involved. _'Who the hell is he?' _he thought suspiciously. But seeing as Batman was not familiar with this one, Robin assumed he was an enemy and acted accordingly.

And while this was happening Keled was still observing these strange people with confusion and suspicion. However, the one eyed man seemed to show no outward hostility towards him, unlike the bat-themed one, so he had most of his attention on the bat. But he received something else to worry about when a small shape suddenly landed in front of him and kicked him straight in the guts. Keled was knocked back into a display case as the small figure came at him with a rapid barrage of punches that left stinging marks all over his body.

Yet as Robin tried another kick, Keled caught it in both his hands and dragged his opponent off balance before slamming him through another display case, peppering Robin's back with glass. That however did not stop Robin as he lashed out with his other foot and forced Keled to let go. Both put some distance between them, analyzing each other for weaknesses. Once again, Keled was confused concerning this one's attire; black, red and yellow combined on his suit with a cape, gloves and some strange mask that only covered his eyes. Just what purpose was it supposed to serve? His young age was also something to note about. Obviously, strength would not be on the child's side. But from what he had seen so far, speed and agility would be. The fact that he was in fact fighting and planning to kill a child never even bothered Keled.

Robin on the other hand was a bit more cautious now. One look at his tattered and worn down look had convinced Robin that it would be easy as hell to neutralize this man. Obviously he had been dead wrong in that aspect. Robin had to admit, the guy must have had one heck of an endurance and pain tolerance to still be standing and fighting. The distinctive noise of a fight taking place suddenly drew Robin's attention, but not Keled's. Turned out that Batman and Deathstroke had resumed their little battle somewhere along the way.

The reason was that upon catching sight of his protégé getting thrown through a display case, Batman had moved to help, but Deathstroke had suddenly blocked his way.

"Let them fight it out." He had stated humorously. His reason was that he wanted to see what that soldier could accomplish, plus it kept the fight purely one-on-one.

As they continued their battle, Robin felt like he should help his mentor. Unfortunately, he lost focus on Keled, who was more than happy to take advantage of that as he rushed him, hobbling slightly thanks to his injured leg. Robin was caught completely unprepared as Keled tackled him with his armored shoulder and sent him crashing to the floor. But Robin was quick to counter by kicking out against Keled's legs and easily knocked him off balance. And as he had gotten halfway back up again, Robin was already up and ready again. a spinning kick connected with Keled's head before Robin flipped over him and delivered an uppercut to his gasmask.

But even though his whole body hurt like hell, Keled still crawled back up and attacked with a barrage of boxing-like punches, all of which the Boy Wonder kept evading like it was a dance for him. He even let out his signature cackle along the way.

"What's the matter? Am I too fast for you?" he taunted as he slipped under Keled's guard and delivered a quick blow to his kidneys before withdrawing. Keled took both the blow and the taunt without so much as twitching or even grunting, something that unnerved Robin a bit. He expected to hear at least _something_ from a guy who was getting pounded by a thirteen year old. What Keled just did, was what he had been taught to do back on Krieg; detach himself from emotions and feelings and focus on crushing his enemy.

Still, even he had to admit that it was a tad bit frustrating seeing the child avoid every strike he sent at him, and he was starting to tire out. There was always a point to which every man could reach, but then go no further. Keled was fast approaching his. But as he launched another punch, Robin darted to the side and lashed out with a kick that knocked Keled back, as well as knocking his helmet off. Another quick strike with his leg knocked Keled's right leg off balance, and he fell down to his knees. Robin then came up behind him and grabbed hold of his gasmask, and in the ensuing struggle it was torn off.

But as he finally got a good look at his adversary's face, Robin froze up in shock. He was just a bloody teenager! The blood and grit smeared over his face could not hide that fact. But that stone-cold face, and those empty eyes, it was like staring at a dead man. Sadly, his short distraction cost him dearly as Keled grabbed hold of him and flipped him right over his shoulder straight into the floor. Robin got the wind knocked out of him and on reflex rolled over on his stomach and tried to push himself back up. He never got that far as Keled jumped on top of him and grabbed his head in a chokehold. With newfound desperation, Robin tried to push Keled off of him, or at least remove his arm from his throat. But Keled did not budge in the slightest as he methodically put more and more pressure on the child's throat, choking him to death.

Gloved hands clawed fervently on the arm constricting Robin's air supply, but the greatcoat offered ample protection against such a weak way of attack. Gurgling sounds bubbled out of his throat as his lungs were screaming for air, only to be denied. Stars began flicking at the edge of his vision as his struggles grew weaker and weaker. And through it all, Keled's facial expression never once changed from that cold and indifferent look he possessed. No pity, no mercy, no remorse. _That_ was how one dealt with his enemies.

But it was only now that Keled noticed that the sounds of fighting had completely stopped, meaning the other two were done as well. Before he could even consider what that might entail, something impacted against his neck and he was out like a candle. Finally able to breathe again, Robin sucked in greedy gulps of air while Batman removed the soldier from his protégé.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked as he helped Robin back up, who was still breathing a little raggedly and was massaging his sore throat.

"Just give me a minute and I'll be fine." He responded. Batman just gave a slight nod before he turned his attention back to the unconscious soldier. Turning him over to the local authorities was out of the question here, not before at least finding out where he came from and why he was here.

"Where did Deathstroke go?" Robin suddenly asked as he came to stand next to Batman.

"Escaped." He answered before he held the strange amulet that Deathstroke had been after up for Robin to see. "But at least he didn't get this." He added. Robin nodded his head before his eyes landed upon his former opponent. There was something truly off about him. He could not have been older than seventeen, yet that look he had in his eyes was that of a coldblooded killer. Someone who could kill anyone, anytime without remorse.

"What do we do about him?" he eventually asked. Batman's eyes narrowed as he himself contemplated the situation before he voiced his decision.

"He's too dangerous to let walk free, and we don't know anything about him. I'll take him to the Justice League headquarter for interrogation." With that said, Batman hoisted him over his shoulder before walking away, followed by Robin.

"The Hall of Justice?" he asked curiously. Batman however said nothing more on the matter.

* * *

The first thing Keled became aware of when he regained consciousness was the unforgivingly bright white light nearly stealing his eyesight when he tried opening his eyes. The second thing was that he was not breathing in the recycled air from his gasmask that he had become so accustomed to during his years as a trainee, instead he was breathing in rich and clean air. The third thing naturally was that he could not even feel the comforting gasmask covering his face, nor did he feel the thick and heavy material of his Death Korps uniform. The part about not wearing his gasmask made him a bit uncomfortable. He had been wearing that thing for so long, that it had become his true face for the simple reason that it showed what he was.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he found himself in a white room with a large mirror mounted on one wall and a single door leading inside. Upon questioning himself how he got here, memories from the battle of Helsink, coupled with his trip through the Warp and subsequent encounter with those strange men came to the forefront of his mind. The last he remembered was a blow to the back of his head, and then nothing. While remaining stoic on the outside, Keled felt a small sense of unease come over him. If the enemy had defeated him, why was he still alive? Whatever the reason, it could not be good, and Keled was not going to face it lying down.

So slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed, taking a good look at himself for the first time. Obviously, someone had stripped him of his gear and uniform, seeing as he was wearing some manner of white gown and some underwear. While the gown seemed to be made of some thin and smooth material, Keled felt more uncomfortable in it. He preferred the heavy weight of his trusted Death Korps uniform. But there was something wrapped tightly around certain parts of his body. It turned out that someone had tended to his wounds and bandaged them up as well. Just what kind of people were they? Giving medical treatment to an enemy soldier? Sparing his life?

His mental confusion over the matter was promptly halted when the door opened and three people entered his little cell. The first one was the bat-themed man from earlier, still trying to look as intimidating as he could. His attempts to frighten Keled broke against him like water on rocks. The second one was a blonde haired woman wearing a leather jacket, a leotard, fingerless gloves and fishnet stockings. She smiled kindly at him, trying to appear friendly. He returned that smile with a dull look. The last one however made him stiffen. It was a greenskinned xeno dressed in red and black with a passive look on his face.

So, these humans were collaborating with xenos. On a personal level, Keled had nothing against their kind, but the Emperor had decreed that all xenos were to be exterminated from the galaxy, and that was all the explanation and motivation Keled needed on the subject. Not about to go down without a fight, Keled got off the bed onto his feet and faced them with fists held high and ready. The trio in front of him appeared to not be intimated by his actions.

"If you're planning to escape, allow me to point out that you're currently detained in the Justice League headquarter, and that there're 17 other members on sight should the need arise." The bat-themed man pointed out. It did not matter to Keled, not even if that man had an entire legion of traitor marines at his beck and call would it have mattered. Death Korps never surrenders to the enemy. So, knowing full well he was going to be met with failure, he charged at the man. And as he had suspected, he did not get very far. But as he had not expected, he was stopped by being lifted into the air. Without anyone even touching him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the xeno's eyes were glowing as he held a hand outstretched towards him. So, he was dealing with a psyker as well. Meanwhile, the bat-man was looking at the whole scene with uncaring eyes.

"Let's get the obvious stuff out of the way. We took samples of your blood while you were unconscious, and have run your picture through our databanks. No match was found." He began calmly, with that growling voice he always seemed to be using. "So I want to know who you are and where you're from."

Ahhhh! So that was what they wanted out of him. Information. Well, obviously they had never heard about the Death Korps of Krieg. For if they had, they would have known not to waste their time trying to get one of them to talk. So naturally, Keled said nothing, just gazed straight at the bat-man with a blank face and dead eyes. The silence stretched on for a while before the bat-man took a threatening step forward.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Cooperate, and we can work out a deal. Resist, and you'll be here a long time." That threat, coupled with the fact he was still held in the air, might have worked on a lesser man, but not Keled. He had been trained to withstand pain, to shut off his empathy. He could not be intimidated, for fear or even a sense of self-preservation had been ruthlessly expunged from his mind. The woman suddenly stepped forward to address Keled.

"Look, we treated your wounds and you're not locked up in prison. Isn't that a sign that you can trust us?" she asked him kindly. Had he been a more emotionally free individual, this would have been the point where he let out a snort of disbelief. Trust? Who in their right mind would place their trust in their captors? So he still said nothing and his facial expression did not change the slightest. Realizing that he was not about to budge, the woman gave a sigh of resignation.

"This will probably take a while." She muttered to her colleagues. She had absolutely no idea how correct that statement would be.

* * *

"Anything?" the man of steel, Superman, asked as he and the Justice League were assembled in their conference room to hear the news concerning their unexpected "guest" on board the Watchtower. Batman just shook his head, having just returned from an interrogation session with the boy.

"One week, and he hasn't said so much as a word." Batman grumbled out. Truthfully, he was running out of ideas on what to do with him. They had tried all manner of interrogation methods, barring torture. Batman tried his usual intimidation techniques, even pressing him up against the wall at one point. Black Canary tried a subtler approach by acting friendly and even motherly, hoping to soften him up. Superman tried his little Boy Scout thing, in an effort to build some small foundation of trust. Heck, eventually they decided that getting a reaction out of the kid at all would be a victory, so they sent in the Flash and Green Arrow on multiple occasions to try to lighten the mood. All of them. Every single one of these numerous attempts were met with the same look of apathy, and that unnerved a good number in the League.

"Not too sound overly pessimistic here, but why are we even keeping it up? It's obvious the kid's not going to crack." Green Arrow spoke out. Though internally he was quite curious, and a bit dreadful, on how a mere sixteen year old could have developed such a stone-cold visage.

"Despite our lack of progress, we have no choice but to press on. The boy is far too dangerous to be let loose now." Batman countered, to which no one felt like objecting. Batman had after all shown them the footages of their little clash at the museum, and from the way the soldier was both willing and able to kill Robin without so much as a single tiny emotion on his face was all they needed to be told in order to draw a logical conclusion: the kid was a threat. It was just a question of discerning _who_ he was a threat to.

"But what else are we supposed to do. We have tried everything to make him cooperative, and we can't keep him imprisoned up here forever." Aquaman suddenly added. And it was true. Sooner or later, they would have to either let him go free, or hand him over to the authorities for prosecution. But Batman still had one last card to play, something he had reserved for last.

"There is one last thing we can try." He said as his eyes landed on a particular member of the Justice League: J'onn J'onzz, more commonly known as the Martian Manhunter. It only took about a quarter of a second for everyone present to deduce his plan. It did however take about a five second gap before the room erupted in chaos.

"You can't be serious! He's just a kid!"

"Another person's mind is not something we have the right to go and root around in at will!"

"What other choice do we have? He won't cooperate with us!"

"I can't believe we're even discussing this!"

"This would not be the first time we've used mind-reading. What's so different this time?"

All of these comments, and about a dozen more were thrown back and forth among the Leaguers, some siding with Batman's idea while others felt it was too extreme. Growing tired of the escalating argument, Batman rose from his seat with his infamous bat-glare in place. It worked like a charm, as the whole room grew deathly quiet.

"We need answers from him, and he can't stay here forever. This is our last chance to get information." He reasoned with the members, adopting that cold and uncaring attitude that many associated him with.

"But he's just a kid. Aren't we going a little too far?" Superman, ever the gentle soul, asked uncertainly. Batman just turned his bat-glare straight at him.

"Yes, he's a kid. A kid who came close to choking Robin, my protégé, to death with absolutely no qualms about it." He countered with a certain edge to his voice. The statement was clear as daylight, he would not budge on the matter.

* * *

Sitting as still as a statue on his bed, Keled kept his eyes locked on the door, waiting for the next round of interrogation to begin. They had tried again and again to make him talk, even given him a change of clothes as a sign of good faith, but never once did he break. Not a single moment did he lose focus and let something slip. With the mental discipline burned into his mind from his time on Krieg, he gave them nothing: no emotions, no answers, no reactions, not even a single sound. And he would continue, he would resist these heretics to his last breath. Which he suspected was fast approaching. Their patience was wearing thin, that much he could tell, and he suspected that they would soon decide to merely get rid of him. He accepted that fact, for then he could face the Emperor and knowing that he never once faltered in his service.

And his time seemed to have come, as the door opened and allowed several of these "Leaguers", as they called themselves, to enter. Over the course of his time here, he had learned the name of several in their numbers. The first one to enter his cell, who Keled suspected was the leader of this little group, was the one who called himself Batman. Behind him came the one known as Superman, the one known as Green Arrow, a raven haired woman in very revealing clothes who Keled suspected was the one called Wonder Woman, if the stories that Flash had tried to regale him with were anything to go by, and lastly was the green xeno who Keled never bothered to place a name on.

They together formed a semicircle facing him, with Batman and the xeno stepping forward. This could in no way be good news for Keled, but he remained uncaring on the outside. Let no weakness be shown to the enemy.

"This is the Martian Manhunter." Batman introduced the Martian with a sweep of his hand. "He's a telepath who can read your mind. And unless you decide to answer our questions, he'll enter your mind and take the answer we need."

For the first time since waking up in this cell, Keled displayed a reaction. His whole body stiffened, as if high voltages of electricity were coursing through his body. _'I knew he was a psyker, but he can read my mind?'_ Keled thought in alarm. He had never received training against their kind before, he could not fight something like that. His earlier sense of fulfillment came crashing down around him. No doubt that foul psyker would tear apart his mind as he took whatever he desired. His last wish of denying the enemy what they wanted before he died was snatched away. But if they wanted what he had, he would make them fight for it. With the look of a man walking towards his execution, he turned his eyes towards the xeno who would soon invade his mind.

"Do your worst, xeno filth." He stated before he spat at his feet. The others present in the room was taken aback by this sudden display hostility and disgust towards the Martian. Seeing as their guest remained uncooperative, J'onn's eyes began glowing as he sought to enter Keled's mind. A fierce mental battle erupted as Keled fought with everything he had to keep the intruder out. But sadly, J'onn had both strength and experience on his side and broke through.

The first thing he became aware of as he entered Keled's mind was emptiness. Even now, Keled was fighting J'onn for all he was worth. It was like a haze had been laid over J'onn's eyes, and he could not see anything just yet, so all he could discern were various sounds: cannons firing, someone screaming in pain, rumbling of tanks, hundreds of boots marching in unison, an officer shouting orders, gunfire, and the clang of steel against steel. But they made no sense without an image to go with them. Finally, with one last mental push, he was inside the inner sanctum of Keled's mind, and all his memories came streaming to him by the hundreds. J'onn instantly regretted ever coming here.

He saw a dead world, where the people lived underground, and where soldiers were trained in the harshest and most brutal way imaginable. Pain, both of the physical and mental kind, plagued this soldier from such a young age. Friends died, loved ones died, emotions died. He became a ruthless killing machine, like the thousand other soldiers getting shipped off on a daily basis. An Emperor was praised, a war was fought in his name. Cities were laid to rubble, spaceships housing thousands of lives were obliterated without mercy. Soldiers marching down a blasted road, survivors peeking out from their ruined houses in abject terror. Mass graves are filled with executed enemies.

Soldiers, all wearing the same uniform as Keled, were charging headlong into enemy fire uncaring for the lives of their comrades or even themselves. All the enemies are killed. Rebels, seeking independence. Innocents are dragged out of their homes, many not living to see another dawn. One by one, the worlds are retaken. Death tolls rising by the hour, yet no tears were shed for fallen comrades. A public execution. Deserters, having had enough of killing their fellow countrymen. Keled just looked on, uncaring about their lives. War rages on, more die. Keled kills more and more, never once feeling an ounce of regret. Flamethrowers burn rebels alive, a single shout echoes along the line. "Don't shoot! Let 'em burn!". Finally breaching the last stronghold, killing everyone inside.

A man with immense power, bargained from deities beyond his comprehension. Keled's comrades are torn apart by unholy power, no one was spared. But Keled still fought on, pain tearing him apart, but he still pushed on. The heretic slain by his hand. Being dragged into a realm of Madness. The Warp. Not seeing anything, not daring to see anything. Noises all around him, the wails of the damned and the wicked. Foul things caressing him, desiring his soul. But something saved him. He was dragged away from certain death, only to end up somewhere stranger. Fighting Robin. Interrogated by the Justice League.

"_I failed you, Emperor." _With a startled gasp, J'onn was jolted out of the mind link and slung back into his body. Sweat poured down his forehead as he sought to steady himself, being too worn out by what he had seen to stand on his own. Green Arrow was instantly at his side.

"What happened?" he asked in concern. J'onn did not answer, instead turned his eyes towards the young soldier whose mind he had invaded, currently breathing heavily while leaning forward in exhaustion.

"So much pain. So much death." J'onn murmured mostly to himself, but the others in the room heard all too clearly. The moment he spoke up, Keled's head snapped back up, eyes instantly locked on J'onn. And for the first time in years, there was an emotion on his face: Hatred. Unbridled hatred. Batman immediately stepped forward.

"What did you find out?" he asked, straight to the point as usual. But J'onn seemed to have not heard him, as he said nothing and continued to breathe heavily.

"I-I'm sorry, I need some fresh air." J'onn managed to squeeze out before he retreated from the room. The others gave him concerned and puzzled looks before they as well left the room, leaving Keled alone. And during that whole time, even when the Martian had left, Keled never once lost that look of absolute rage. Before, he had no personal reason to detest xenos. Now he had a reason to detest at least one of them.

* * *

While the majority of the League had headed back to Earth, crime never took a day off after all, those that had been present during the mind reading stayed at the Watchtower, waiting for an explanation from the Martian. Finally, it seemed like he had composed himself again as they congregated in the garden built inside the space station.

"My apologies for leaving in such a rush, but I was temporarily overwhelmed by what I found inside his mind." He explained to the gathered League members. They exchanged worried looks with each other before turning their attention back to J'onn.

"That bad?" Green Arrow asked, to which J'onn gave a slight nod of his head.

"While I was only able to piece together certain parts and still lack the full picture, yes, it was that bad." He responded with that calm voice that most Martians seemed to have.

"Tell us what exactly you managed to piece together." Batman ordered, to which J'onn's eyebrows furrowed together before he began his tale.

"He is a human, yet his planet of origin is not Earth, but a planet I've never heard of before that is called Krieg. The surface of Krieg is uninhabitable, destroyed during some cataclysmic war that occurred centuries ago, and the people live in underground bunkers."

"We should probably check with the Green Lanterns, see if they know of this Krieg." Batman suddenly mused out loud, before gesturing for J'onn to go on.

"Here is the part that I find greatly confusing." J'onn admitted. "According to what I could gather, he and his homeworld is serving someone called the Emperor, who rules what is referred to as 'the Imperium of Man'. I find it odd, since humans only exist here on Earth." Naturally, he was not the only one confused. An Imperium of Man? What nonsense was that? No such thing existed.

"The boy himself is a soldier, serving in his homeworld's armed forces, called the Death Korps of Krieg."

"Wait! They let children join their army?!" Green Arrow suddenly burst out in outrage, being silently backed by Black Canary and Superman. However, what came next sure as hell did not raise this so called Krieg any higher in their eyes.

"He was not allowed to join, he was conscripted along with every other child his age." J'onn revealed, to the utter horror of his teammates.

"What?" that question came out more like a whisper from Black Canary.

"Apparently, most children born on Krieg are destined from birth to be sent to the army. And it is not an army I would ever want to face." He admitted, elaborating upon seeing the confused looks given to him. "Their training regime is one of the most grueling I have ever seen. Many do not survive to even reach the age of 15. But not only did they undergo physical training, but mental as well. Their minds were deliberately shattered to pieces, in order to be rebuilt as an emotionless killing machine that follows any order without question. What we have here is the foundation of a ruthless and fatalistic army, whose soldiers are willing to go to their deaths if their commanders so wished."

A stunned silence filled the air, as they all contemplated what that entailed. If such an army existed in the galaxy, it sure as hell was not meant to be used as a peacekeeping force.

"Anything else of value?" Batman asked.

"Only that his arrival here seemed to have been an accident. He was partaking in a battle to quell a rebel force when he came up against an enemy with potent mystic power. He was eventually slain, but our soldier ended up being dragged into a realm of utter madness that he referred to as the Warp." J'onn added. Silence followed, as they contemplated what to do next. Obviously finding Krieg was top priority. Such a force they were building was a threat that could not be ignored, and needed to be stopped. But what to do with the soldier in their care?

* * *

Once again, Keled was alone in his cell. And once again, he was left wondering why they kept him alive. It had been four days and they obviously had what they wanted now, so why did they just not kill him? Was it to taunt him? To let him suffer through the knowledge that he had failed? Well, he was not going to give them the satisfaction of watching him crumble to bits. He was a soldier of the Death Korps of Krieg, and they never broke down. Not even in the face of certain and imminent death.

The door suddenly swung open, allowing the one known as Flash to enter along with a new figure dressed in green pants and orange shirt with a definitive air of leadership around him, along with blonde beard and hair. Flash gave Keled what he assumed was meant as a comforting smile, he could not be overly sure since he had never experienced such things on Krieg. He answered with a blank stare that knocked his smile right off his face. The bearded one stepped forward to address him instead.

"I'm Aquaman. We're here to escort you to the assembly hall." He said with a sharp authoritarian voice. Clearly he was a man used to giving orders. Seeing no point in resisting, given their superior strength and numbers, Keled let himself be led through the halls of their base of operation, head held high. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a crescent shaped table with twenty people sitting at different seats around it, all watching Keled with curious looks. The one known as Batman wasted no time and addressed Keled directly.

"You are 769355-637566-Keled, or simply Keled, a soldier in the Death Korps of Krieg. Planet of birth is the military world of Krieg. Am I correct?" he questioned, seeking more to demonstrate that he knew all about him more than wanting confirmation. As usual, Keled said nothing in return, and another League member stood up to address both Keled and the others present in the room. He was a black man with a green and black costume on.

"The Green Lantern Corps maintain order in most parts of the galaxy, but we have never encountered a planet called Krieg." He revealed. "However, if it does exist, we should take measures to stop these Death Korps. Their aggressive ways are too much of a threat to be ignored."

So they planned to go to war against Krieg? Ha! They were even more stupid than he had first given them credit for. Did they not realize the sheer power of the giant they were planning to poke in the back? Well, in that case, he was more than happy to educate them. Put a little fear into their hearts before they even faced his brothers and sisters on the battlefield. As loudly as he could, he snorted at that statement, drawing several looks. Just as he wanted.

"Stop the Death Korps, you say? Ignorant fool, we are but one planet, one tiny cog in the giant machine that is the Imperium of Man. An Empire of over a million worlds that has endured for ten thousand years, protected by war fleets numbering in their millions and armies numbering in their trillions." By now, all the attention was centered on Keled as he continued his little tale. "From his Golden Throne on Holy Terra itself, the Emperor, beloved father of all Mankind, will reach out with his might and crush you. Your Justice League will be trampled into dust beneath the boots of the Emperor's chosen and battle hardened warriors. Fight us, and you will invite death to you all."

Keled had to admit, he never knew he had the skills of an orator within him. But the reaction he received was not what he had been expecting. Instead of the dread and fear he hoped would overwhelm them as their minds grasped just what they were up against, they instead gave both him and each other looks of confusion, making Keled question their level of intellect.

"Terra? As in Earth?" Superman asked curiously. Keled furrowed his eyebrows in thought over that.

"A rather ancient name, but yes.(1)" He eventually answered. A stunned silence filled the air. But something seemed to have dawned to the League members, as their looks of confusion turned to looks of understanding. Something that Keled did not enjoy in the slightest. Batman suddenly rose from his seat.

"Come with me." He ordered while gesturing for Keled to follow. While still eying him suspiciously, Keled did as asked and followed Batman to one of the windows, specifically one overlooking a planet.

"What do you see?" Batman asked. Keled gave a quick look at the planet below before giving an unconcerned shrug.

"A planet, which I suspect is your homeworld." He answered. Batman, who had so far himself been looking down on the planet, turned fully to face Keled.

"That, Keled, is the only planet in the galaxy containing human life, called Earth. Or, as you referred it to, Holy Terra." He corrected him. In that moment, all brain functions seemed to turn off in Keled, and his entire storage of words was emptied out with the exception of one single word.

"Huh?"

* * *

_1. I have no idea if Keled would even know that Terra was once called Earth, but just roll with it here._


	3. Chapter 3: This is Holy Terra?

**Chapter 3: This is Holy Terra?**

For how long he and Batman just stood there in silence, staring down at a planet that Batman claimed was the cradle of mankind, Keled had absolutely no idea. His face remained frozen in his usual look of indifference, but his mind was reeling from the mental blow it had just been struck. What Batman said could not possibly be true, could it? The idea was preposterous. Humanity ruled the stars, not just this mere little backwater planet. The more Keled thought of it, the clearer it became to him.

"You lie," he calmly pointed out to Batman, who for his part looked untouched by the accusation.

"I can assure you, I'm telling the truth here. This is your Terra, but there is neither an Imperium nor an Emperor," he retorted with just as much calmness as Keled. Finally, he turned fully to face the bat-themed man, an air of unshakable confidence around.

"Your lies can't fool me, heretic. The Imperium of Man is the dominant power in the galaxy, with a military force on a scale never before seen. And the Emperor is a god among men, a beacon that guides humanity towards our birthright as the rulers of the entire galaxy. You can hide in your webs of deceit for how long you want, it won't change the truth."

Many in the Justice League found themselves shocked that such a young boy could stand up to Batman with such a cold and unbreakable resolve, but Batman himself was unaffected. (Why? 'Cause he's Batman!)

"What reason could I have to lie about this?" he easily countered Keled's accusation as they both stared each other down, neither one so much as flinching.

"You're collaborating with xenos, have psykers among you and are talking about attacking Krieg. You're probably seeking to hide like cowards from a superior foe, waiting for the right moment to strike," Keled reasoned, sounding like he was simply making a report to his commander instead of arguing with a possible enemy. Batman narrowed his eyes on the young boy.

"We're not seeking to attack. We're seeking to protect Earth from a possible threat," he stated with that infamously dark voice of his that put the fear into uncountable criminals. Keled was completely unaffected as he spared a quick glance over the non-human members of the League before turning his attention back to Batman.

"Xenos protecting humans? That sounds highly unlikely, given their deceitful and treacherous nature," he said monotonously. Now, had he had a better grasp on emotions, he would have realized that his little statement would be considered an insult. One that the Justice League did not appreciate.

"Hey! Don't start pulling everyone over the same edge! Just because you've maybe had bad run-ins with aliens before, doesn't mean they're all alike!" Captain Marvel defended as he rose from his seat in anger. A restraining hand on his shoulder from Zatara made him sit back down. While no one else voiced their dislike towards the comment, the looks they sent Keled's way spoke more than words could. He was not troubled by it. After all, the enlightened one should not be concerned about the opinions of the ignorant one.

"That's where you're wrong. Betrayal is but a natural part of all xenos. And by the words of the Emperor of Man, all they will ever be are vile and untrustworthy creatures, who always seek to enslave and destroy humanity to stop us from claiming what rightfully belongs to us. Extermination is all they will ever deserve and destroying them is the only way to silence their lies," Keled calmly reveled, without an ounce of hesitation. This was the truth that he and his fellow soldiers had been learned to embrace. This was the truth that guided all of humanity. But naturally, the Justice League was abhorred by what he was saying.

"And what gives your so called Emperor the right to make such a claim?" Aquaman questioned hotly, seeking to challenge the young boy's ideals. The answer he received was not what anyone had expected.

"He is the divine power, the one true deity that guides all of humanity. To question His words is the path to heresy and damnation," that simple answer was spoken with such an air of finality to it. The Emperor was always right, anyone who said differently was wrong and must die for his heresy. It was that simple in Keled's mind. Batman narrowed his eyes on the boy. _'Just what kind of society had he come from?'_

"Regardless of your religious views and political beliefs, that doesn't change the fact that we're not lying. This is Earth, and there exists no Emperor of Man," he pressed on, determined to make the boy see reason. It would all be so much easier if he could just accept the truth. A cold look was what he received for his troubles.

"And as I've said before, your lies won't work on me. In the 41:st millennium, there can be no peace between humans and xenos." But once again, Keled's statement only drew looks of confusion from most of the Justice League, while some suddenly had looks of understanding. Keled turned his eyes back to Batman, silently asking the question he would have loved to ask out loud: what did I say? Batman suddenly placed a hand on Keled's shoulder, an action that caused him to tense up.

"Keled, you're currently in the 21:st _century,_" he revealed. Any other person might have panicked, but all Keled did was raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"You really expect me to believe such nonsense?" he asked condescendingly. No verbal answer was given to his question, instead he was guided back to the front of their conference table. While he was wondering what they were planning now, Keled kept quiet as Batman went back to his seat. No words were exchanged, but Batman seemed to utilize some manner of control panel, as a holographic image of the planet below appeared. Keled still refused to even think of it as Earth, no matter what these heretics said.

"If you don't believe our words, then we'll just have to show you the truth," Batman stated. What followed was an hour long lecture, covering human history, the geographic and political situation across the galaxy, technological advancements, chronological accounts and whatever else they could come up with. And with each new piece of information, Keled's spirits were slowly crushed and grinded to dust. He tried to vehemently deny it, but the amount of proof stacked against him was simply too much. This was not his time, this was not his world, this was not his home.

"You have to face the facts here. The Imperium you speak of, the Emperor you praise, neither of them exists here," Aquaman stated to Keled, seeing no reason to sugarcoat the horrible truth to the boy.

When their little lecture came to an end, Keled was as silent as a grave. No emotion was reflected across his face, no sound slipped past his lips, not a single twitch in his muscles gave away what he was thinking. On the outside, he was the prime example of serene calm. But on the inside, he was almost drowning in despair. His home, it did not exist here. His Emperor, he did not exist. His reason for living did not exist anymore.

"Keled?" Black Canary asked in concern, as she and the others watched the literal void that was their unfortunate guest. No answer came, his eyes never left the holographic image of Earth, _this _Earth. But finally, it seemed like Keled had reached his breaking point as his eyes lowered to the floor while his whole body slumped together like a punctured tire.

"How… how can this be possible?" he eventually asked. Zatara was the one who spoke up on the matter.

"We are not completely sure yet. This can either be a case of time travel or alternate dimension. We won't be sure until we have deciphered the symbol carved on the amulet and…"

"Wait, symbol?" Keled interrupted as his head shot back up again, a foreboding feeling bubbling up in his stomach.

"Yes, an eight-pointed star, carved on the amulet that transported you here," Zatara answered, puzzled by the boy's sudden reaction. Hearing the answer, Keled's mind instantly went into search and destroy mode. These morons were keeping a blasphemous artifact of the Warp instead of destroying it? They were even more ignorant than he had first given them credit for.

"You must destroy that amulet, as soon as possible," he ordered the assembled adults. Looks of confusion were sent his way as Superman tried to placate the boy.

"Don't you think you're overreacting here? It was what brought you here, and it may be the only way to…"

"Such things are irrelevant here. That symbol represents the Ruinous powers, destroyers of order and civilization and Chaos personified. Such power will only corrupt all that it touches, and must be destroyed before it can cause too much damage," Keled's short outburst caught the Justice League by surprise, and many shared looks of uncertainty with each other.

"I think you're being a little hasty here. That amulet may be your only way of ever going home, it would be foolish to destroy it," Zatara reasoned. Keled said nothing more on the matter. Instead, he muttered something inaudible to himself. Unfortunately, he had not taken into consideration that Superman had super hearing, and could hear every word he spoke. And what he said caused Superman to fly up from his seat.

"No! We would never do such a thing!" he burst out, drawing several looks. An elaboration on Superman's part followed.

"He wants us to kill him," he clarified. Keled gave Superman a look that blended anger and confusion together. Confusion over how he could have heard him, anger over how he seemed to be set in denying Keled's final wish.

"Okay, wishing to destroy your only ticket back home was one thing. But wanting us to kill you?" Green Arrow spoke up. Keled just folded his arms over his chest.

"I have no reason to exist anymore. My sole purpose in the Death Korps was to die on the battlefield, to atone for the sins of my ancestors. That purpose is gone now that there's no Emperor in whose name I can go to my death with my head held high. The least you can do is put an end to it all," he reasoned, still with not a single hint of even the tiniest sliver of emotions. He was even starting to unnerve Batman with how emotionless he appeared to be.

"We use our power to protect the world, not to become executioners," Wonder Woman stated. A single eyebrow was raised by Keled.

"Soldiers in your world do not kill?" he asked in confusion.

"We're not soldiers! We're heroes, we protect the innocents, but never go so far as to kill people!" Captain Marvel exclaimed. The subject concerning killing has always been a touchy one for the Justice League.

"Green Arrow. Take Keled back to his cell," Batman ordered. No objections were given and Keled was quickly led out of the conference room.

* * *

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Robin let his signature cackle echo through the night sky. First time in weeks that he got the chance to patrol all on his own, and this was exhilarating to him. He had been nagging Batman for months about giving him more freedom, more responsibility, instead of being constantly depended on his mentor. Not that he hated working with Batman. On the contrary, he loved it. But Robin felt like he deserved a little bit more, at the very least to be recognized as something more than just "Batman's sidekick". And for a while, he had been so close too. He had actually managed to keep the discussion going, instead of Batman just ignoring it altogether. That was an improvement in his eyes.

But then that weird kid in the military getup had popped out of nowhere, looking like he was fresh out of Stalingrad. Thinking about that mysterious kid brought forth a multitude of emotions in Robin. First on the list was anger that the kid had gotten the drop on him, and come close to killing him. Batman would still not stop fussing over him about it. Not that he could really blame the man, his throat had been sore for two days straight. Of course, next on the list was curiosity. Following the kid's arrest, Batman had taken him away and he had not been seen since. And every time Robin tried to pry information out of Batman, all he would get was silence. And being the energetic little sidekick of the greatest detective in the world, his curiosity on the matter only grew with each unanswered question!

And of course, there was that heroic part of him that felt a slight concern for the kid. As stated before, he looked like hell. Robin did not even know if he had been an enemy or not, he had just reacted on instincts and attacked. For all he knew, he could have been just as confused as Robin had been and only acted to defend himself. Small chance for that, but still a chance. Because of that, Robin felt the need to talk with that kid, to get the whole story. That way, he could apologize if he had done wrong, or sleep better at night knowing he had done right.

He suddenly shook his head as he leaped over yet another alley. He was getting way too sentimental here. Besides, he had a job to do at this moment. Batman had trusted him enough to be on his own for one night while he dealt with some kind of League business. Not that it really had mattered so far anyways, seeing as it had been quiet as a grave for several hours. A bored sigh slipped out of his mouth. First time in God knows how long that he was allowed to patrol alone, and not a single crook to beat up. Okay, had he been drugged and secretly moved to Metropolis while he was not looking? Because this was seriously not the norm of Gotham City.

But, lo and behold, a crime seemed to go down in the alley that Robin had been in the midst of leaping over. A trio of thugs had cornered a young man, who was shaking in fear as they brandished their pocket knives as a way to intimidate. The only reason it worked for these amateurs was because they outnumbered their prey and he was unarmed.

"P-please, just l-let me go!" the man pleaded with them, hoping to find some manner of mercy in his attackers. He definitively picked the wrong city for that, exemplified here by the thugs laughing at him.

"Now why would we do such a thing? Letting you run away and leave us empty-handed?" one of them mockingly asked while stepping closer. Robin had meanwhile seen quite enough and leaped into action. The trio had no time whatsoever to react before Robin landed feet first on the middle one, knocking him off his feet, before striking out with a kick that sent the second one flying into the wall. The third one had enough time to blink in confusion before an uppercut sent him off to la-la land. The one Robin had landed was in the midst of crawling back up again, so Robin gave him a lazy chop to the neck, knocking him out.

Yet another sigh came out of Robin, this time from disappointment. These guys were hardly enough to be called a light warm-up exercise. Still, he had saved an innocent man, so that should count for something.

"You okay?" he asked kindly as he turned to face the man he had just saved.

"Yes. I am now," He answered with a grateful smile. Well, at least someone was happy about this. The man wasted no more time around and hurried away, most likely heading home. With that dealt with, Robin finished it up by handcuffing the thugs, planning to leave them to the police to pick up. It was as he finished with two of them that he realized the third one was missing. The noise of a trashcan getting knocked over alerted Robin that his quarry had already fled the alley and was making his escape.

"Oh no you don't," he called out in irritation as he set off after him. No way was he going to let this sorry excuse of a robber get away that easily. Exiting the alley, he found his prey making a beeline towards a rather infamous alley: Crime Alley. Robin was hot on his heels as the thug disappeared down the alley. Instead of running on the ground, Robin fired his grapple gun and swung up on the rooftops again. But as he began tracking his prey again, Robin found to his dismay that he had lost track of him. Unacceptable in Robin's eyes, he was supposed to be better than this. So with an aggravated grumble, he continued looking for his quarry, determined to not let him slip away that easily.

"Where could he have possibly run?" Robin asked himself in wonder. No amateur like that guy should be able to give him the slip that easily. The answer to his question came in the form of a bloodcurdling scream from inside one of the rundown apartment buildings that was silenced as swiftly as it had come. Eyes wide in shock, Robin did not hesitate in letting his heroic instinct to take over and guide him to the edge of the rooftop from which he dived down from and smashed through a window. Executing a roll down the stairwell he had landed in, he came face to face with a frightened old woman who had been in the midst of climbing up the stairs when the scream had caused her to freeze up.

Without even asking what Robin even wanted, she pointed a trembling finger at the door right between them. He gave a small nod before he inched his way closer towards the door. At first gripping the door handle with the slow delicateness of someone disarming a bomb, he then threw it wide open with a trio of batarangs clutched in his free hand. The hallway he found inside was empty of any threats, so he slowly moved inside. He checked the kitchen, the bedroom and the bathroom, all were empty of any threats. Confusion came over Robin. Had he somehow gone into the wrong apartment?

It was as he was about to leave when he noticed a small factor, the window in the bedroom was open. Cautiously approaching it, expecting a trap to be sprung at any second, he peered out once he stood in front of the window. Al he found was a note taped to the fire escape. He gently picked it up and unfolded it, finding a message that at first might appear strange but had a deadly meaning behind it: It red 'Kaboom!'. Years of experience kicked in and Robin instantly dived out of the open window, seconds before a concealed bomb was triggered and the apartment went up in flames.

Fiery debris peppered Robin's back as he plummeted towards the ground. In desperation, he twisted around in the air and fired his grapple gun. It slowed him down enough from getting squashed against the pavement, but his arm felt like it got pulled out of its socket and he still got heavily bruised as he impacted the ground. At first, pain was all he felt in his battered body, screaming at him to just lie still and do nothing.

But he ignored it and started pushing himself back up. As expected, every battered muscle loudly protested against such an action and a painful moan came out of his throat. Still, he would not go down that easily and bit back the pain as he staggered back up to his feet. Barely had he managed to gather his bearing again when the sound of footsteps began drawing closer to him. On instinct, he twirled around with a roundhouse kick. That kick ended up being caught in a steel-like grip before a fist smashed right into his face with enough force behind it to send Robin back to the ground with a vision that suddenly refused to stay still.

However, seconds before he departed the conscious world, he caught sight of one blurry image of his attacker. It was not much, just a hokey mask concealing his face. Then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

Hours later, back at the Watchtower, most of the members had left the conference room, either roaming around on the space station or having returned to Earth. The only ones left in the conference room were Batman, J'onn J'onzz and Superman. And as expected, the subject of their discussion was Keled. While it seemed to have been agreed upon to send him back home, they were still debating on what to do with him until he was sent back.

"No, he can't leave the Watchtower," Batman firmly stated, to the growing frustration of Superman.

"Come on, we can't keep him locked up here forever. He needs to get out a bit, see more than just the inside of his cell," he protested. But Batman was unmoved on his decision.

"He's too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. By his own admission, he's a soldier with no sense of remorse," he calmly countered. His mind was made up, Keled's upbringing made him far too volatile to be set free. For safety reasons, he would have to stay locked up until he could be sent home.

"Bruce, he's committed no crime here, and we attacked him first. We can't just lock him up like a common criminal. I'm not saying we should just let him walk around free without supervision, just that he doesn't stay in his cell all the time," Superman argued. The fact that he used Batman's true name so openly showed that he was fully committed to his point of view. After all, Batman was notoriously paranoid and was strongly against anyone ever using his true name when in costume.

While Superman was not going to argue that the boy was dangerous, he still felt that he deserved a bit more freedom than what he had. Yet Batman remained unmoved on the subject, though his glare became more threatening at being called by his real name. He was about to once again deliver his unchanged verdict when Flash came rushing in, a look of distress on his face directed specifically at Batman.

"What has happened?" Batman asked harshly, not even bothering wait to hear if it even was good or bad news. When a comrade came rushing in like that, it was never good news. And he was proven right once again.

"You need to come to the zeta tubes. It's Robin. Something's happened to him," Flash answered. Batman had already swept out of the room by the time he had finished. All other thoughts and concerns vanished from his mind as he rushed down the corridor, all his thoughts were on the boy he had trained, raised and come to regard as his son. In record time, he swept into the zeta tube station, were Black Canary waited alongside Green Arrow and, to Batman's surprise, Keled. A sharp glare was directed at the boy, who of course had the same look of apathy, before that glare was directed at Green Arrow.

"What's he doing outside his cell?" he questioned harshly, not being in the mood to be diplomatic about it. Then again, when was Batman ever diplomatic? Green arrow raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Take it easy. I thought I could just show him a bit around the place. Nothing wrong with that, right?" he tried to explain in his defense. But while Batman felt that there was plenty more to say on the matter, he dropped it in favour of the reason he came here in the first place. Turning his steely eyes to Black Canary, she handed him an opened envelope.

"This was sent to the Hall of Justice," she said, anger coloring her voice. Batman instantly snatched it and took out its content. What he found set his blood boiling with rage. The first item was a picture of Robin, _his_ Robin, tied to a chair all bloodied and beaten. The next item was a piece of paper with an address and a text written on it.

_You want the kid back? Bring the amulet Deathstroke tried to steal to this address. No Batman, no super powered freaks, or the kid dies. You got two hours. And don't make me wait._

For several heartbeats, Batman did not utter so much as a single word, just continued to stare at the picture of his partner and adopted son. Then, slowly, his hands balled into fists, crushing the message. Cold fury swept through him, cooling his burning rage with a simple promise. Whoever was behind this was going to pay dearly, that he swore to himself. But what should he do? Do as they requested and hand over the amulet, with no knowledge of what they planned to use it for? But if he did not hand it over, Robin would surely die.

"Batman?" Black Canary suddenly asked in concern, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. That seemed to snap Batman out of whatever trance he had entered as he turned his full attention to Green Arrow.

"Take Keled back to his cell," he simply ordered before returning his focus to Black Canary. "Call up Zatara and inform him of the situation," she said nothing in return, simply nodded and rushed to do as asked. Keled meanwhile observed everything with a critical eye before a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Come on, kid. Let's not provoke Batman more than necessary," Green Arrow said as he led Keled away. He never even registered his words, his mind being far too preoccupied. He had managed to read the message over Batman's shoulder, and it had set him on edge. It would seem that someone else was after that amulet as well. Ever stoic on the outside, he prayed fervently that it was not Chaos cultists. Emperor knows the mayhem they could potentially cause. But what truly troubled him was the Justice League. Any sane person would have destroyed the amulet a long time ago, and would have most certainly not even considered handing it over to someone else, no matter what.

But these weaklings seemed to plan just that. Their enemy had captured one of their own, and they were stupid enough to trade the amulet for his life. Madness was what it was. Full-fledged insanity, brought upon by the useless notion that was called affection. At least he assumed that was the correct term. They had become attached to that boy, cared for him, and for that reason they were willing to jeopardize everything to save him. He had to struggle not to sneer as he was led down the corridor. Attachments such as those only got in the way of the mission in his eyes. The logical course of action would have been to sacrifice the boy, let him die, thereby denying the enemy their prize.

The more Keled thought about it, the more he came to realize that he could not allow it to happen. He could not allow the heathens to put humanity at risk just to save one of their own. A purpose was finally granted to Keled in that moment. The Emperor may not exist here, but humanity did. And as long as humanity still persevered, he would fight and die for it. It was his only purpose. The Emperor had spared his life, thrown him into this foreign world, and he would not bring shame to him by simply throwing in the towel. He had come dangerously close to doing just that when he asked the Justice League to kill him, something he had been reprimanding himself for ever since.

"Green Arrow," Keled suddenly spoke up, gaining aforementioned man's attention. "I need to use the bathroom," thankfully, Green Arrow seemed not to question him in the slightest and with a simple shrug of his shoulders deviated from their current course and led him down a different corridor. Arriving at their destination Keled opened the door and was about to walk in. but he stopped when he noticed that Green Arrow was about to follow. Like usual, he said nothing, bit the deadpan look he sent at Green Arrow spoke far better than his mouth ever would. He seemed to get the message as he backed off.

"I'll just wait outside," he said sheepishly. Keled paid him no further heed and closed the door. Inside he found the standard public bathroom that apparently existed in most public buildings, though this one was much cleaner. But instead of going to one of the booths to relieve himself, Keled made a straight line towards a vent. He had not been idle since he had been escorted out of the conference room. Green Arrow had stuck around with him ever since, probably acting as both guard and guide. But the man was extremely talkative and friendly, something that Keled had taken advantage of.

Through extensive questioning, Keled had gotten a rough picture of how this Watchtower looked. At the very least, he now knew where his equipment was stored, where the so called zeta tubes were located, and most importantly, where the amulet was being kept. Wasting no time, he climbed inside the vent and made his way deeper into the station. Finally, after crawling around for several minutes, he exited in a hallway a good distance away from where he left Green Arrow. He cautiously glanced down each direction before heading out. From what he had gathered, the items he was looking for were being kept one level below him, so he needed to find a staircase or something similar.

He moved as fast as he dared, eyes and ears constantly peeled for any leaguers. No one luckily came and he soon found a staircase and was moving down it with speed. He would be the first to admit that stealth was not his forte in the slightest. He, like all other Death Korps, were more suited for direct conflict, bludgeoning their enemies to death with brute strength and sheer force of numbers. Moving around on the next floor he came out on, Keled had to admit that he was a bit lost. But through a bit of luck, he stumbled upon the room he was searching for, labeled "storage".

Thankfully the door was not locked, and after having a short battle with how the control panel worked, Keled was able to enter. Inside he found the confiscated gear of all the major villains that the Justice League had defeated throughout the years. He ignored all of those in favour of one special collection neatly folded on a table; his Death Korps uniform. As he came to a stop in front of it, he ran a hand reverently over the last remnant of his homeworld he had left. With no hesitation, he stripped out of his civilian garbs, feeling a sense of relief over finally getting rid of those useless rags, and donned his uniform.

A sense of nostalgia washed over him as he felt the rough and heavy material on his body. It was a wonderful relief for him to finally be back in uniform. And as a finishing touch, he put on his gasmask and helmet. The metallic taste of recycled air was such a stark contrast to the clean air on the Watchtower, but Keled would happily trade all the fresh air in the world for his beloved gasmask. It was more than a tool to survive in polluted or oxygen-low environments, it was his identity, his real face. Whenever he had looked at himself in the mirror back in his cell, it had always felt like looking at a complete stranger. It may have been the face he was born with, but it was not him. The mask was him; it defined him, made him who he was.

Finally, with his uniform back on, Keled made his way deeper into the storage room until he found the next object he was after; the amulet. Merely by looking at the blasphemous symbol carved on it, Keled felt revulsion build up inside him. Internally, he was disgusted by the notion that he would need to even touch that infernal thing. Nevertheless, he would endure it to the end. No matter the cost, that was how the Death Korps worked. No sacrifice was too great, no prize was too high, just as long as victory was achieved. Even so, as he grasped the foul amulet, Keled could feel a chill travel up his spine. He had already gotten a taste of the Immaterium, and he was not eager to experience it again.

He held it in his hand as his eyes roamed across the storage room for something to destroy the amulet with. But suddenly, a thought struck him. What about that boy? The one being held hostage? Keled had not even considered his life up until now, but something made him. Of course, the cold and logical side of him was telling him to forget about the boy, let him die so that this amulet would not fall into evil hands. Yet something made him hesitate, made him wonder if he could be saved. Back and forth went the internal debate in Keled, as he struggled with what to do.

At last, a decision was made and Keled placed the amulet inside his greatcoat. He turned around and headed out of the storage room, when suddenly something caught his eye. Slowly, as his mind formulated a new plan, a feral grin formed underneath his gasmask as he strode over to the objects he had spotted. _'These will definitively work to my advantage.'_

Stocking up on his new find, Keled made a swift exit and headed back the way he came. Going by his photographic memory, he backtracked through the Watchtower to where his only escape route lay. Absentmindedly, he wondered whether Green Arrow had noticed yet that he had given him the slip or not. Given the high level of trust, or as Keled saw it, stupidity that they showed him, he suspected not. Finally, he reached his destination, the zeta tubes. Thankfully, no one was present at the moment, which suited his goal just fine. Wasting no time, Keled rushed over to the controls.

A fierce intellectual battle erupted as Keled put all his efforts into figuring out how the damned thing worked. Sure, he had been able to pry out some general facts on the subject from Green Arrow, but the blonde archer seemed to have had at least some sense of discretion as he never went into details. That at least left Keled with the basics, but it was still a challenge. Minutes ticked by as Keled fumbled with the infernal system, knowing full well that each second wasted here increased the chances of him being discovered. _'Where are the Tech Priests of Mars when you need them?'_

At last, with a satisfying hum, the machine started up and Keled hurriedly stepped inside the tube, awaiting transport. It was at that moment that someone came rushing in, obviously alerted of something happening by the sounds of the zeta tubes powering up. Keled only caught sight of long blonde hair before his vision was engulfed by a blinding light. For a short moment, Keled wondered if the Emperor had at last come to claim his soul, it sure as hell felt like he was floating away from his physical form. That feeling only lasted for a few seconds before he was thrust back together inside a phone booth.

While he would never admit it out loud to anyone, Keled felt more than a bit queasy from the experience, and his legs suddenly felt like they had more in common with jelly than with flesh and bone. Still, even when alone, Keled refused to openly show such weakness pulled himself together before exiting the phone booth. The moment his feet made contact with the solid concrete, Keled was struck with the incredible realization that billions of people could only dream about back home; he was on Earth, the cradle of mankind. Even though he knew that this was technically not _his_ Earth, it was still such a breathtaking experience, to tread upon the most holy of all planets in the galaxy.

The fact that he was standing in a filthy and rundown alley in the brooding city of Gotham did not deter his awe in the slightest. If he had been a more open person, this would have been the point where he fell to his knees and started kissing the ground.

"What's this? A cosplayer who got lost?" and just like that, Keled's moment of awe was rudely interrupted. With dispassionate, and more than a bit annoyed, eyes, he observed as a group of four guys advanced on him. While he was no expert on human behavior, he could clearly discern their intentions with the way they kept grinning at him and the fact that the one in front was brandishing a pocket knife at him.

"Isn't it a little early for Halloween?" the one in front mocked while stepping closer. If these amateurs sought to agitate or intimidate him, they were just wasting both time and effort. Keled had faced far worse than these weaklings in his life. Without saying so much as a word back at them, Keled began to steadily advance at the leading guy. He only smirked wider, thinking he had the upper hand. Suddenly, the guy lunged forward with his knife, but Keled merely sidestepped and grabbed his arm. And with one devastating punch, he broke the arm by the elbow. Even as the guy howled in pain, Keled slammed his head into the concrete wall before letting him glide unmoving to the ground. Dead or just unconscious, he neither knew nor cared.

The three that remained temporarily froze up in shock, not expecting their leader getting taken down that easily. Keled was not about to let them get a chance to recover as he rushed forward and brought a fist straight into the guts of the second guy, followed by an uppercut that sent him flat on his back. The third one had enough sense to attack with a punch, but Keled blocked it with his forearm before he knocked his attacker's arms aside, grabbed hold of his head and head-butted him twice. He fell to the ground in a daze, nose crushed beyond recognition.

The last one was full on shaking in fear now. He, like the rest of his friends, had expected this guy to be easy picking. Instead they had all been brutally beaten up by the "victim". And now he had all his attention focused on the last guy. As Keled advanced upon him, he snatched a metal pole lying around and tried to make a last stand. Keled was anything but impressed. As he stepped within striking distance, the guy yelled a battle cry before swinging his weapon at him. It was child's play for Keled to catch the pole with his hands before smashing it right back into his face. He was about to fall over from the blow, but Keled grabbed hold of the front of his jacket and slammed him up against the wall.

"Would you be kind enough to tell me where the docks are located?" Keled asked the hapless guy. Though confused by the request, he was not about to provoke this maniac further by keeping quiet. So he gave him the directions.

"Thank you. Your cooperation is much appreciated," Keled commented before he knocked him unconscious.

* * *

Down by the docks, we find Robin tied up in the same position as on the photo inside a dry dock. While he was conscious, there was not much he could do. All his equipment had been taken while he had been knocked out and he was securely tied to the chair. As much as he hated to admit it, he was going nowhere until back-up arrived. A heavy hand on his shoulder reminded Robin that he was not alone as well. He had the wonderful fortune of having Sportsmaster keeping him company.

"Just got word that someone's coming over for a visit," he said smugly, no doubt smiling behind that hokey mask of his as he brought out a knife and hell it close to the boy's throat. "Seems like you'll be reunited with your mentor soon enough, and I'll get that amulet."

If Robin had been able to, he would have given a comeback to that. Alas, that would not happen anytime soon, not with that infernal gag in his mouth. So he just had to settle with glaring murderously at him, prompting a dark chuckle from the man. But both their attention landed on the door leading inside as someone entered. And the moment Robin saw just _who_ it was, he could practically feel his heart leaping up into his throat from shock. It was that gasmask wearing kid he faced last week! Just what the hell was he doing here? Sportsmaster merely observed this stranger with a clinical look while raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Never seen you before. Are you new in the hero business?" he asked in curiosity. The blank expression of the gasmask was all he received in answer. Keled meanwhile was also taking the moment to analyze the masked man facing him. He looked imposing enough, but Keled had not come here for a fight. Silent as the grave, Keled reached inside his greatcoat, an action that caused Sportsmaster to tense up, and brought out the amulet. He held it up in plain view, and Sportsmaster loosened up with another dark chuckle.

"You heroes can be painfully predictable. Threaten an innocent or someone you care about, and you start dancing to my tune," naturally, he just had to gloat a bit before he held out an expectant hand. "Now hand over the amulet and the kid goes free," but Keled made no move to comply, he just stood and stared and Sportsmaster. An action that irritated Sportsmaster quite a bit. He was about to demand the amulet again, with a bit more force behind it, but he never got that far before Keled did the unexpected; he threw the amulet down on the ground before stomping on it with his boot, crushing it to bits. He even grinded his boot quite a bit, just to be on the safe side.

When he finally lifted his boot off the amulet, all that was left were crushed bits of it. Silence descended over the dry dock, as both Sportsmaster and Robin stared wide eyed at first Keled, then at the amulet, then back at Keled. And during that time, Keled never so much as twitched, he just stood as still as a statue. Finally, Sportsmaster made the next move by narrowing his eyes and pressing the knife hard enough against Robin's throat to draw blood.

"Bad move there, now the kid has no value to me anymore. So I suppose I'll just kill him." he growled out in anger. He never liked it when someone messed up his mission, and this new face had the balls to destroy his objective right in front of his eyes. That could only be interpreted as a taunt in Sportsmaster's eyes, and no one taunted him.

"Do that, and none of us will walk away from here alive." Keled stated monotonously. While at first looking confused underneath his hokey mask, Sportsmaster eventually snorted at his claim. However, he was forced to seriously rethink his humor when Keled opened up his greatcoat, revealing that it was packed full of explosives. And as a finishing touch, he brought out a trigger from one of his pockets and held it up in plain view.

"This is how we're going to do it; I'm going to count to three, and you will drop the knife and walk away. If you haven't done so by the time I count to three, or if you kill the boy, I'll press the trigger and we'll all die together," Keled explained in that same dull voice. He truly sounded untroubled by his actions. Robin's eyes widened in both shock and terror. Was that guy seriously threatening to blow them all up?! But Sportsmaster was not about to fold just yet.

"You're bluffing," he countered heatedly. Keled answered that claim with one single word.

"One," tension grew as Robin's eyes darted nervously between Sportsmaster and Keled, wondering who would blink first. While he had always known the inherent risks in the hero business, and was prepared to pay the ultimate price to protect the innocents, he was in no absolute hurry to do so. Besides, getting blown to bits by his "savior" did not sound all that appealing.

"Two," even Sportsmaster was feeling the tension now. Sweat began to gather on his brow as he eyed the guy in the gasmask. He was bluffing, he had to be. There was no way the guy was serious about blowing himself to kingdom come. But he could not help but feel doubt. He had always been good at reading a person's thoughts by observing their body language, and this guy's calm posterior all but screamed deadly seriousness.

"Three," with that last word, Keled let his thumb descend towards the trigger. One thought went through two minds simultaneous. _'Holy shit, he was going to do it!'_

"Wait!" Sportsmaster called out, cursing both Keled and himself over how desperate he sounded. "Alright, you win here," he punctuated this by dropping his knife and began stepping away towards a small boat. But even as he admitted defeat, he glared hatefully at the gasmask. This punk had made him look weak, and that could not stand. As he climbed on board his boat, being constantly observed by Keled, he swore to himself that he would make him pay. Nobody disrespected Sportsmaster and lived to tell about it. Nobody.

"This ain't over, pal," those were his parting words before he speeded away. And with the threat gone, Keled put away the trigger and strode over to the still bound Robin. And even though Keled just saved him, Robin could not help but feel a sliver of unease travel through him as Keled approached. Who was to say that he had not come here simply to finish what he started back at the museum. But he had nothing to fear, as Keled picked up Sportsmaster's discarded knife and began cutting through the ropes binding Robin. The moment his hands were free, Robin tore off the gag in his mouth while Keled began working on cutting his legs loose.

"Thanks for the save, man," Robin said gratefully as he stood on his own two feet again, feeling his stiff joints after being bound to that chair for hours. "Not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but why did you do it?" he really was curious on that point, seeing as last time they met they fought each other. Keled just shrugged his shoulders.

"To be honest, it was more of a spur of the moment more than anything else," he admitted as he sheathed his new combat knife in his belt, a fact that did not sit well with Robin. Though he did not say anything on the matter, not wanting to provoke him. Changing the subject, Robin let a grin split his face.

"Gotta admit though, that bluff with the bombs that you pulled off was good. For a moment, I was actually convinced you were going to do it," he complimented. Obviously he was thinking now that Keled had just been trying to trick Sportsmaster. For as he reasoned, who would be crazy enough to blow themselves up for no reason? Not counting the Joker, mind you! Keled turned his full attention to Robin at the compliment, making Robin feel a little nervous under that cold and unchanging visage of the gasmask.

"I wasn't bluffing," Keled simply said before walking away. It took a moment for his words to be processed by Robin, at which point he just stood were Keled left him, eyes wide in disbelief. _'That guy has some serious issues,'_ he thought before he hurried to catch up with him.

* * *

Once again, Keled found himself facing Batman and a good number of leaguers. There was Black Canary, looking very much like a stern mother who just caught her kids sneaking out after curfew, Green Arrow, obviously still irritated and a bit embarrassed over how a kid gave him the slip, Superman, who was mimicking Black Canary's stern expression, and the one known as Zatara. Keled was a bit off put by the sorcerer, his ways were far too reminiscent with Chaos sorcery for his taste. At least now he could face them with the comfort of being in full uniform again. They had tried to make him surrender it with little success.

"Care to explain your actions?" Batman growled out. Any other person would have been cowering in fear at that point, but Keled was unmoved.

"You're not my commanding officer, Batman. Therefore, I do not require to explain my actions to you," he calmly countered. Batman narrowed his eyes in irritation, obviously not used to being so blatantly defied. Zatar was the one who spoke up next.

"You do realize that with the amulet destroyed, there's very little chance for us to ever return you home," if that was meant to make Keled feel sorry, it sure as hell did not work one bit.

"I'd rather rot away on this backwater Earth than to place my life in the hands of Chaos again," he stated with conviction. It was no question in his mind, trying to use that amulet for anything at all was out of the question. It was Chaos, and as such should never be used. Only destroyed before it brought ruin to others. The tension seemed to mount, so Black Canary once again stepped in to try a more diplomatic way.

"We're just surprised. Given your reaction back in the conference room, we thought you'd given up. So why would you go to such lengths to save Robin and destroy the amulet?" Keled could not really explain it, but something about Black Canary made him want to trust her, for whatever stupid reason. If he had to guess, he would say it was some trick on their part. But, as he thought about it, he decided he might as well humor them this time. He had something that needed to be voiced anyway.

"My reaction back in the conference room was a temporary lapse in judgment and will not be repeated. As for my actions concerning the amulet; it was a relic of Chaos and had to be destroyed, no matter the cost, lest its powers fell into the wrong hands," he explained evenly, sounding every bit like the soldier that he was.

"That still doesn't explain why you went through the trouble of saving Robin, when you could have just as easily just smashed the amulet right away and been done with it," Black Canary pointed out. An uncomfortable silence fell over the gathering, as the leaguers waited for Keled's answer, while Keled himself was wondering what his answer really was.

"As I said to Robin when he questioned me, it was a spur of the moment. I cannot truly explain my reason other than it was on a whim, nothing more," he admitted without shame. Why deny the truth, anyway? "However, I do now know what my purpose is. So long as I breathe, I will do the duty I was trained to do; fight and die for humanity, no matter what I have to face," he never said it out loud, but the challenge in his declaration was clear as daylight; just try to stop me.

By this point, most present were giving him looks of disbelief over his announcement. The only one who still seemed to be in control was Batman, which was kind of expected given who he was. Still, even he did not like the idea of Keled becoming a vigilante. For one, he was not familiar with this Earth and how things worked around here. But more importantly was the fact that Batman _knew_ that he would just turn into a murderer, slaughtering anyone he deemed deserved it. And given his narrow-minded view on the world, that sounded like quite a few in his crosshair.

"What if we decide to stop you?" he challenged. Keled said nothing, instead merely cracking his knuckles. The message was clear, he would fight the entire Justice League if he had to. But Batman had suspected such a reaction from this soldier. And he was already considering another alternative. If they could not stop Keled, perhaps they could restrain him.

"Then I have a deal for you," he announced, gaining everyone's attention. "You'll be allowed to fight crime, and we'll supply you with the necessary funds and equipment to do so. But you'll be under Justice League jurisdiction. You follow our rules, you do as we say and you don't go running off on your own without our permission," even though they could not see Keled's face, none of them doubted that there was a deep frown on his face at that moment.

"And if I refuse?" he challenged with his arms folded across his chest. Batman had already anticipated such a question and had an answer formulated.

"We send you back to your cell," that was the cold verdict. It may have seen a bit harsh to place such an ultimatum on the boy, but Batman knew what kind of person he was dealing with. He had been raised on discipline and force, and so those were the only things he would respond to. Black Canary's more gentle ways were good to make him talk. But to make him listen, Batman knew they had to be harsh on him. This way, they minimized the damage that Keled could possibly make. And, there was that small hope that they could change him for the better.

The boy was lost, with nothing but his merciless training and fanatical devotion to his Emperor to drive him on. Perhaps, with the right guidance, he could be shown a greater purpose, could be taught to appreciate a life beyond servitude and fighting. It was a small hope, but hope nonetheless, and Batman was sure that many in the League would be willing to help. At the very least, he hoped that Keled would learn to see beyond the beliefs that had been hammered into his brain, see that killing was not the best alternative.

Keled himself was in deep thought. The thought of working with these xeno loving heretics did not sit well with him, even if these imbeciles were from a time or world that had never been blessed with the Emperor's wisdom. And from what he had gathered, their method of fighting their enemies was highly ineffective and only provided very short term victories. But on the other hand, if he refused to comply on this one, they would lock him up again, this time for good no doubt. He may have been fully ready to take on the Justice League, but he knew from the start that it would be a lost battle. At least with the deal, he would be allowed to do his duty to humanity, albeit in a restrained manner.

So, as much as it pained him to do so, Keled saw no other alternative than to submit to Batman's wishes. Choosing the lesser of two evils. Sacrificing his pride as a child of mankind by fighting alongside xenos, so that others could live in peace. _'Oh Father of Mankind, give me the strength to endure this,'_

"Very well, Batman. I accept your deal," Keled finally announced. The addressed man gave a short nod of his head and extended a hand. And after a brief moment of hesitation, Keled extended his own and shook hands with the dark knight.

"If you're going to work with us, you'll need a codename to use on the field," Batman added. While finding the request odd, Keled did not question it. For as much as he was loath to admit it, Batman was now his superior officer. And you never questioned a superior officer.

"In that case, I have a name in mind," Keled said, with a hint of reverence. "In honor of the home that shaped me into the weapon I am today, and which I will never see again, I shall be known as Krieg,"

* * *

_Here it is at last, chapter 3. It took so damn long to write because I have been struggling for weeks with how to incorporate Keled into the DC 'verse while still making him stay true to the coldblooded and xeno-hating ways of the 40k 'verse. Though I have to admit that there are some parts which I'm not that content with, but I could not come up with anything better. _

_Thoughts and opinions on whether I did a good job or not here would be greatly appreciated._


	4. Chapter 4: Meta Brawl pt I

**Chapter 4: Meta Brawl pt. I**

It was a calm and quiet day in Star City. The streets were bustling with people, each going on their own errands while cars zoomed past in the traffic. But this serene picture was shattered with an explosion at the local bank. Said bank was in the process of getting pilfered by a group of five robbers.

"Come on! Hurry it up, will ya!" one of them called out irritably to his fellow robbers, obviously being in a hurry.

"What's the rush? We still got another five minutes before any police forces show up," another of the robbers, a big fellow with bulging muscles, countered as he shoveled down stacks of money in a bag.

"It ain't the cops I'm worrying about, it's that Robin Hood wannabe and his sidekick that I'm worried about. This is their turf after all, and if we don't start legging it, they'll be all over our asses before we even know it," the first one stated while constantly glancing at the doorway. That seemed to have spurred most of them to work faster, but the big one was still not concerned in the least.

"Well I say bring it on, I'd love a chance to beat those two up," he muttered. It seemed though like someone had granted his wish, as when one of the robbers moved to exit the building he got knocked back by an impact arrow to the face. Poor guy was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

"You know, most criminals would have been running by now, but if you're so eager for a trashing then I'm up for it," the unmistakably jovial voice of Green Arrow announced as he and his sidekick Speedy entered the bank, both with bows drawn. While three of the robbers appeared a bit intimated by the presence of two heroes, the muscled one only grinned a feral grin at the pair.

"Let's rumble," that was the only warning the pair of archers received before the man charged them head on. A pair of arrows were launched at him, but they just bounced off him. Close combat was quickly joined as a punch came right at Speedy, who ducked under it before Green Arrow was forced to backpedal to avoid a kick. Speedy aimed a blow with his bow at the robber's head, but he caught it and ripped it out of his hands. A backhanded slap sent the kid flying back before the robber charged Green Arrow, wielding Speedy's bow like a club.

Green Arrow ducked under the first swing, sidestepped the second, dodged the third and tried to block the fourth. He was knocked back by the sheer strength behind the blow and slammed into a wall. While disoriented, he still had enough sense to duck under a blow aimed for his head. And before his attacker could strike again, Green Arrow brought out an electric arrow and slammed it into his guts. The robber was forced back, howling in pain from the high voltages of electricity surging through him.

Seeing as his opponent was temporarily distracted, Green Arrow cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the wall where the robber had punched. There was a fist shaped dent in it with spider web cracks spreading around it. _'Okay, definitively packing more strength than the average human,' _Green Arrow mentally noted to himself. And as he turned his attention back to the attacker, he found that he had started battling Speedy. For while the robber had been distracted by Green Arrow, Speedy had taken the chance to recover. But not wanting to risk hitting his mentor, no matter how he sometimes wished to do just that, he had engaged the walking mass of muscle in close combat.

He ducked under a fist, sidestepped a kick, countered with a blow from his bow, stepped back as his blow was deflected by a forearm, sidestepped a mad rush, tried to get a kick in at his knees, missed with the kick and ended up getting an elbow to the face. The force behind the blow sent him reeling back with a rapidly spinning vision. Speedy almost ended up bulldozed by his opponent, if not Green Arrow had stepped in with a well-placed electric arrow that sent high voltages of electricity coursing through the Meta human's body. If he felt any pain from that, he did an astounding job of suppressing it. For all Green Arrow got was a few twitches in his muscles before the brute was on the move again.

However, it seemed like some manner of common sense finally managed to reign in his rampancy, as he made a mad dash towards the exit. At first confused by this behavior, Green Arrow quickly came to the realization that the other robbers had slipped away in the tumult, aside from the unfortunate guy who had been knocked out at the beginning. Criminal code; any man who falls behind, is left behind. But Green Arrow was not about to throw in the towel just yet as he was off in pursuit, arrow notched on his bow in preparation. Sadly, he was too late, as he exited the bank just in time to watch a blue van speed away.

"Freeze it," the unmistakable voice of Batman suddenly commanded, and everything froze up, as if time itself had stopped.

"Backtrack it," Batman ordered again, and everything suddenly started playing back. Only when they were back inside the bank with the Meta did Batman order it to stop again. Seated around the conference table aboard the Watchtower, the members of the Justice League watched the recorded footage of the scuffle that had transpired a few days earlier.

"This armed robbery is only the latest in a string of violet bank robberies spanning across the country. New York, Metropolis, Chicago, Los Angeles and even Gotham have already been hit by this gang, and they're showing no signs of stopping," Batman continued. Captain Marvel suddenly raised his hand, as if he was a student in class asking for permission to speak.

"Uhm… do we know anything about them? Like who they are, where they're hiding or what their next target is?" he asked in curiosity. Green arrow was the one who spoke up next.

"We managed to capture one of their numbers, but he's been uncooperative so far and hasn't given us anything of value," looks of disappointment spread across the leaguers. This meant they were fishing in the dark, and it was never fun.

"However," Batman's voice drew everyone's attention. "I was able to trace his civilian name and map out his habits. It turns out he was a regular visitor to the underground fighting tournament known as Meta Brawl," looks of recognition spread across those who knew about it, while looks of confusion dominated among those ignorant of that name.

"Meta Brawl?" Captain Marvel quickly became the spokesman for those who were ignorant with that question. This time, it was Superman who answered.

"Meta Brawl is an illegal fight club that pits Meta humans against each other. Only rule, they fight until the other stays down. We've tried to shut them down for years, but Roulette, the owner, has several high ranking politicians in her pocket. She can't be touched unless she's caught red-handed breaking the law," he supplemented helpfully. He received the faintest of nods from Batman before he addressed the assembled heroes again.

"Given the super strength of one of the robbers, we believe that he might be a regular fighter there. It's not much, but it's our only lead so far. We'll need someone to go inside and investigate," here, he paused to let his eyes wander over each hero in turn. "Is there any volunteer?" and there came the million dollar question. Of course there were volunteers present, every hero present in this room was a volunteer. Had been from the moment they put on the cape and cowl and went out fighting crime. But that was not what Batman was asking. No, what he really asked was "Who is best suited to remain incognito?".

For let us be honest here, does someone like Superman, dressed up in red and blue spandex with his underwear on the outside, fit into the subtle category? The answer is a simple no. not every hero works best when blending in among the crowds in order to get close to their target. Heroes like Superman, Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman were more fitted to confront an opponent head on and in plain view to be seen.

"I'll do it," Black Canary suddenly announced from her seat. A small nod was all the indication she received that she had been heard.

"You should probably bring someone along as back-up," Batman added. When going into the lion's den, it was always better to be safe than sorry. At this, a mysterious smile grazed her lips.

"Don't worry about that. I already have a person in mind on that account,"

* * *

Los Angeles was one of the few cities that lacked a costumed vigilante to safeguard its people. But then again, crime rates were hardly on a notorious level, given how the city also lacked any costumed villains running around. It just had the average day cops chasing after the average day criminals. But all that had changed a week ago, when the Justice League had appointed a new guardian for the city; the displaced soldier Keled, or as his now called himself, Krieg.

Anyone else would have been flattered by the apparent faith that was placed on them by the Justice League in being given their own city to defend, but Krieg knew better. Crime rates were low and there were no true national threats here that needed League responses. By placing Krieg in charge of protecting an entire city, the Justice League had essentially created an easy way to keep tabs on him. If crime rates were to drop, they would know he was active in the city. If they were to grow high again, they would know that he was up to something different.

While Krieg would have gladly taken the chance to rile up those xeno-loving blasphemers, as always, duty came before grudges. So he had wasted no time in going to work. For his first target, he had completely ignored the everyday muggings that happened all around the city, knowing it was a waste of time and energy trying to chase them all down. Instead, he went for whatever elements of organized crime he could find; drug cartels, mafia, street gangs, they were all fair game to him.

It was in service to this task that we find Krieg in the middle of a brawl in an alley during the darkest hours of the night. These simple-minded thugs were part of a local gang shaking up local stores for protection money, and Krieg was determined to put a stop to them. Already seven of these oafs littered the ground, unconscious or in extreme pain from broken bones. As Krieg blocked a fist from another thug and retaliated with a blow that hopefully shattered his jaw, he silently lamented over how restricted his struggle was. Batman had made it clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that Krieg was prohibited from ever taking a life, no matter how much they deserved it.

'_Short-minded fools, the lot of them,'_ he thought darkly as he grabbed the head of another thug and head-butted him to the point that his nose was practically nonexistent before throwing him straight into another attacking thug. But even when he knew that Batman's ways were highly ineffective, he could do nothing about it. Batman was his superior officer, and his word was law. It pained Krieg, but he had to do what the Justice League wanted him to do.

'_Still can't believe that humanity actually allows the Justice League to exist in their midst,'_ another thug tried to attack him with a knuckle brass, but Krieg easily grasped his arm and broke it by the elbow. His screams of pain were quickly silenced as his head was slammed into a concrete wall before he was dropped to the ground like deadweight. That left three still standing, and they looked less eager than their earlier comrades to rush Krieg. _'Cowardly weaklings,'_ though it seemed like one of them still had a shred of courage as he drew a pocket knife and charged Krieg.

This one however was a bit more skillful than the rest, as he managed to slip past Krieg's defenses and drive the knife into his shoulder. He was rewarded for his success with a knee to the crotch and a devastating blow to the head that knocked him out could. _'And I had my uniform cleaned and repaired yesterday,' _he silently complained to himself as he pulled out the knife from his shoulder and threw it aside. The last two looked like they were considering a tactical retreat, but Krieg never gave them a chance to flee as he charged them.

He rammed the first one with enough force to knock the wind out of him and sent him falling flat on is back. The other one took the chance to get behind Krieg and land a fist on his unprotected back. He never so much as grunted from the blow as he spun around with a fist straight to the thug's face. Then another to the chest, to the stomach, to the face again and finally a kick in the crotch. There was no finesse or technique behind Krieg's style of fighting; it was crude, brutal and merciless with all of its focus being directed into attacking and never defending. Just the way the Death Korps always fought.

What he did not notice was that the one he had knocked over earlier had already recovered and grabbed a steel pipe with the intent of bashing his skull in. Krieg did not notice the danger until it was too late to do anything but bring his arms up in a defensive gesture. But the anticipated blow never landed as someone came in with a spinning kick that sent him flying into the wall, out like a candle. This someone was a slim female figure with blonde hair, leather jacket and fishnet stockings. It was also someone who Krieg easily recognized.

"Black Canary," he acknowledged with a small nod. Black Canary did not return the gesture, instead faced him with her hands placed on her hips.

"You missed one. Had I not been here to help, you would have suffered severe injuries or maybe even died," she reprimanded him. She may have sounded harsh, but she was trying to help Krieg. Brainwashed and genocidal background aside, he was still just a kid. And Black Canary would be damned if she was going to allow someone so young to die.

"A mistake on my part. I will strive to avoid repeating it again," Krieg answered dully. A small smile split Black Canary's face. Here was one reason why she liked Krieg, he could easily admit mistakes and that he needed help. She knew a fair number of people, *cough*Speedy*cough*, who would just brush off any offered help with a stiff "I had it all under control".

"Anyway, I have a mission, and I'd like you to come along," she revealed, unknowingly putting Krieg in a dilemma. He did not want anything to do with the Justice League, preferring to operate alone, or at the very least with humans. Canary would at first glance appear human, but her scream was a curse no human could have, meaning she was a mutant. So naturally, if he had a choice in the matter, he would never go along. And therein laid the problem, for he was uncertain if he had been given an order or not.

Another fault with many of the Justice League, was their confusing way of giving orders. Other than Batman, who was always clear on the matter, most of the others he had had the great misfortune of working alongside with often _asked_ him if he could do something. Being asked, it was something he was unfamiliar with. Sure, he knew how to ask for permission from superior officers, but never had a superior officer asked him something. It had always been clear directives. Do this, do that, no questions asked. _'I miss my simple life in the army,'_

"Is that an order, or a request?" he inquired, silently praying that it was the latter.

"If you're going to put it like that. Then yes, it is an order," Black Canary stated firmly. Now Krieg at least had clear directives. Complete the mission handed to him, no matter the costs.

"Very well. I await your command," he said monotonously. Black Canary furrowed her eyebrows at him. There was one aspect of him she had trouble with. He always saw himself as a soldier, and never as a person. Sadly, there was not much she could do about that but hope that something would come along to help him.

"First things first, we need to take care of that stab wound," Black Canary ordered while pointing to Krieg's still bleeding shoulder. Krieg raised no objections as he followed after Black Canary.

* * *

It was two full hours later that the pair entered the target building, both decked out in full gear. Krieg wasted no time in letting his eyes scan the massive fighting club, analyzing every guard within his line of sight and assessing their threat level. Most looked like the usual beefed up brutes that were highly popular among the scums of the world. In other words, minimal threat. Loud cheers suddenly shook the building as in the ring below, one of the contestants had been vanquished.

Distaste swelled up in Krieg at the sight of all of these pompous fools baying for blood. They were supposed to be the dutiful role models that would inspire the people to live under the protection of their government, yet here they were endorsing this brutish and illegal fighting tournament. And for what? To be entertained by the blood spilt by these thugs while making a quick buck on the sidelines. A foul taste rose into his throat as Krieg came to realize just how similar these corrupt people were to the old aristocracy back home. Those that had plunged his beloved homeworld into a nuclear cataclysm and doomed its people to a 500 year long civil war.

Faced with the sickening familiarity, Krieg's cold mind began to wonder just how many of these imbeciles would have to die before they realized how spoiled they have become. Which ones among the thousands of spectators might even now be having delusions of grandeur for the simple reason that they were born with power? Who among these people was even now plotting to usurp more power for themselves, heedless of the price others would be paying? Would it not be better to kill them all now, and save this world from what happened to Krieg?

Krieg was not even aware of how much time floated by why his mind explored those dark possibilities, but someone else had as a hand was placed on his shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. With his mind still trapped in the past, Krieg instinctively stepped away and reached for a nonexistent sidearm. But as his face snapped back to glare at whomever had touched him, he was meant with the concerned look of Black Canary, and his mind instantly returned to the present time. His tense muscles relaxed and he straightened out from the fighting stance he had unknowingly slipped into, but Black Canary still looked concerned.

"What happened there? You spaced out on me, and then nearly attacked me," Black Canary inquired. She already had a good guess as to what it was. Such reactions often happened to those who had experienced something terrible, and was then reminded of that incident years later. Krieg for his part felt like a fool. He had allowed himself to get distracted and had nearly attacked his commander. That was unforgivable, even if said commander was a filthy mutant. He needed to forget the crimes of his ancestors for the moment, they were a distraction in this mission.

"Just a few unpleasant memories," he responded coldly. He could have easily lied, but that was never a skill he had learned. He had been taught to speak the truth or not speak at all.

"You want to talk about it?" Black Canary asked in what Krieg assumed to be a gentle voice. His answer was as adamant as its delivery was swift.

"No," without even waiting for a reply, he moved deeper into the club. His eyes were on constant alert for anything that might appear suspicious enough to warrant investigation, which so happened to be about everything around him. To his left, a few rows higher than him, an elderly man was discreetly talking into his cellphone while taking great care not to be overheard. A few rows lower, he saw money exchanging hands between two men while their eyes never left the cage below. Just to his right, a young woman was fawning over her apparent male companion while shooting discreet glances at a shady individual who was watching the couple like an Inquisitor watching a suspected heretic.

This whole place reeked of corruption and intrigue, and Krieg would have suffocated in its stench if he had not been wearing his beloved gasmask. Personally, Krieg could not help but wonder why the Justice League was wasting time tracking down a group of measly robbers when they had a whole den of disgusting filth to clean up right under their noses. Yet another sign of weakness for the list Krieg kept in his mind.

"We should split up, cover more ground. We'll meet back at the entrance in an hour," Black Canary ordered. A short nod to assure her he had registered the order and then he was gone. A small sense of relief came over him knowing he did not have to be around her for another hour. And hopefully they would have completed the mission by then and he could go back to Los Angeles. But even as he began his search, he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none.

This place was bursting with corrupted filth of all kinds and flavors. Finding their targets in here, without even knowing how they looked, would be like trying to find one specific Ork in a full-blown Waaagh. Nevertheless, he had a mission, and he would complete it, even if he would have to tear the whole building apart to find them.

* * *

"Find anything?" Black Canary asked as she and Krieg stood at the exits, watching as yet another fighter was dragged out of the cage knocked out while the winner was basking in the cheers and applause thrown at him from the crowd.

"Negative. No sign of our targets and no one present have proven to be cooperative on the subject, meaning they either do not know or will not tell us," Krieg reported without ever taking his eyes off the cage below. _'What a waste, these fighters could have been excellent soldiers in the army, yet they waste their talents away on this,'_ he thought with disdain. Canary was silent for a while, contemplating their next move no doubt.

"Any suggestions?" she suddenly asked him. He was caught completely by surprise. Did she just ask for his opinion? What kind of commander asks his soldiers on what to do? The commander is supposed to have the clear view on the battlefield, he is supposed to issue orders to the soldiers, not the other way around. Still, she wanted his opinion? She would get it.

"We call in reinforcement, round up everyone present and hand them over for prosecution," he commented absentmindedly, receiving an incredulous look from his commander.

"We can't do that! We don't know if they're all even guilty!" she protested on that. For the first time since they had regrouped, Krieg turned his blank mask towards her, most likely looking her right in the eyes from behind that gasmask.

"Do you honestly believe that even a single one of these traitors is truly innocent? They are all the same, rotting examples of what humanity should strive to vanquish, and deserve nothing less than a traitor's end," he countered coldly, with such finality to it that arguing was obviously pointless with him. A tired sigh escaped from Black Canary before she had a chance to stop it.

"Regardless, we can't do such a thing without proof to back us up," she admonished him. Krieg did not say anything further on the matter.

"We'll do one more sweep, just in case. Search in any place you might have missed or overlooked," she added before striding away. Behind his mask, Krieg raised an eyebrow.

"Every place?" he asked for clarification as his eyes were drawn back to the cage where a new contester had entered to fight tonight's champion, some idiot named Pain. Black Canary temporarily stopped to turn her attention briefly back to Krieg.

"Yes, every place," and with that, she disappeared into the crowd. Krieg did not seem to notice, as his eyes were still glued on the pair fighting in the cage. Wordlessly, he suddenly set himself in motion, heading towards a specific destination. _'Time to do some in-depth scrutinizing,' _he eventually left the cheers behind him as he entered a hallway on the hunt for a specific individual he had run into earlier. He did not have to look very far, as the man was just ahead of him, talking in his cellphone. Krieg swiftly strode up to him just as he turned a pair of surprised eyes at him, having obviously heard his approach.

"Can I help you?" he asked in curiosity. The man was appearance wise the epitome of distrustfulness; crooked nose, mouth trapped between a smile and a sneer, slicked back hair and weasel-like eyes.

"As a matter of fact, you can," Krieg answered cryptically.

* * *

Black Canary meanwhile had no luck whatsoever. If anything, people almost seemed to be more reluctant to talk than during her first sweep. Another half hour was wasted asking around and looking for anyone that might appear to fit the bill of a robber. Down in the cage, the ruling champion entered yet again, fists raised in the air as if he had already won the upcoming match. Personally, Black Canary could not help but feel a slight twinge of sympathy for whoever was going up against that sadistic man.

"Here he is, the undisputed champion of the evening! The bringer of agony, the man who sends grown men whimpering to the floor! The on and only, Pain!" Roulette announced over the loudspeakers while her face was projected on the humongous screens hanging above the cage.

Sadly, even though Black Canary would have relished the chance to beat him up a bit, his Meta human powers did not match up with the robber she was looking for. The robber was supposed to have super strength, and this man only had the power to induce pain into any living thing he touched. The exact levels of pain were a bit unclear, but by observing the looks of pure agony that warped each victim's face, she would wager it was not something to laugh about.

"Pain may have been cruising through his opponents so far, ladies and gentlemen, but will his victory streak hold out against the next contestant of the evening!" the enthusiastic voice of Roulette announced continued. Smoke suddenly covered the other entrance as whoever the new contestant was approached. _'Laying it thick on the dramatic, huh?' _Black Canary thought dryly.

"The soldier with no fear, the one-man army, the embodiment of war itself!" Roulette rambled on, deliberately building up suspense in the crowd as the contester entered the cage, still partially hidden by the smoke. Losing any further interest in the fight, Black Canary turned her back to it and went in search of Krieg, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Krieg!" but promptly turned back around in astonishment at the announcement. Hoping fervently that it was just a mere coincidence that the fighter and her partner shared the same name, she was sorely disappointed in that regard as her eyes landed on the now unmistakable form of Krieg. _'What the hell is that kid doing?!'_

Down in the cage itself, Pain observed his newest opponent smugly. Sure, he looked intimidating in that army getup, but there was no way that sorry excuse of a fighter could ever hope of matching him. He held the power of pain itself in his hands, he could topple the mightiest of opponents with but a mere touch. He was invincible here.

"You might as well give up while you're still conscious. It will save you a hospital trip," he taunted. But if he hoped to get a rise out of Krieg, he was to be utterly denied. For Krieg never so much as twitched from his words, content to watch the corrupted mutant he had been handed the honor of beating. Pain did not take being ignored lightly as he glared at the still form of Krieg.

"Hey! You even listening to me?" he demanded furiously. No one ignored him, he was the star of Meta Brawl. Everyone should be in awe at his accomplishments.

"I am listening, I am just not paying attention to your words," Krieg calmly countered. Pain was never given a chance to retort, as Roulette shouted "FIGHT!" and the battle was on. Given the reputation Pain had set for himself, he had expected his opponent to keep his distance, try to avoid being touched by his hands and stick to ranged attacks. He most certainly had not expected his opponent to rush him head-on.

Krieg rammed his opponent head first and smashed him straight into the cage bars. While it certainly hurt like hell for Pain, he was quick to retaliate by firmly grabbing hold of Krieg's shoulders. _'Gotcha!' _he thought triumphantly as he let the full fury of his power wash over Krieg and dig its way into his nerve threads. He had at that point expected his opponent to crumble to the floor in pain or beg for mercy, his personal favorite. Krieg did neither, he just let it loose with a rain of blows with his fists into Pain's guts. While still fiercely holding on to Krieg, Pain felt like his insides were getting pummeled to jelly from the endless stream of punched battering them, and they never seemed to lose strength. _'What the fuck, is he immune to pain?!'_

That was as far away from the truth as one could get, for Krieg did indeed feel the pain. It felt like someone had doused every spore of his being with burning Promethium, and he just powered on through. Like he had been trained, he ignored the pain, ignored the physical demands of his body to just give in and collapse. Pain was only temporary, he knew he would live through it, even if it felt like he would not. All that mattered was defeating Pain, everything else was second. In the end, it came down to who could endure pain the longest. And ironically, it seemed like Pain was the first one to give as he broke free and staggered away from Krieg. He was for the first time worried about the outcome. His pain inducing touch had always been his trump card, but this new opponent seemed impervious to it. Worse, he packed a nasty punch as Pain felt like doubling over. Krieg meanwhile was observing the wobbly Pain with dispassionate eyes. _'As I suspected, he relies completely on his powers to carry the fight, and lacks any form of endurance or noteworthy fighting skill,'_

Confident on his newfound advantage, Krieg charged Pain again, heedless of the agony he was undoubtedly about to experience again. As expected, Pain tried to use the same technique of grabbing hold of Krieg and let his power try to subdue him. Krieg never even bothered to defend himself here as he focused all his strength and focus on Pain, attacking almost like a berserker. A constant rain of fists, kicks, elbows and head-butts descended upon Pain remorselessly. And with each hit, it became harder for him to remain standing. At last, Krieg came at him from below with a powerful uppercut that sent him sailing into the air. Gravity however quickly made its claim on the body noticeable as he slammed back on the floor, thoroughly knocked out of the fight.

A deathly silence descended over the crowd, not so much as a peep being heard. This state of awe lasted for about five seconds, then it was shattered by an eruption of cheers. Behind his gasmask, Krieg's lips made the faintest of efforts in forming a barely noticed sneer. Once again, disgust swelled up within him as he watched these bloated people applaud his fight. But that disgust was direct in equal measure at himself as it was against the crowd. He had willfully provided entertainment for these disgusting pigs, and that stung in his soul. Nevertheless, personal sacrifices were always a necessity to complete the mission. He cast a quick glance at the still unmoving form of Pain, the only sign that he was still alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Be thankful that Batman's orders prevents me from purging the world of your disgusting kind," he whispered quietly, too quietly for anyone to hear him. Not wanting to stand and be gaped at any further than necessary, Krieg made his way out of the cage towards the locker rooms. About halfway there, in an out of sight area, he was intercepted by Black Canary. And if the manner in which her hands were placed on her hips and those sharp eyes held a certain fury Krieg could not discern were an indication, she was not overly pleased by his performance. His guess was proven right the moment he stepped within arm's distance of her, for he was promptly grabbed by the arm and dragged to a more secluded spot. Krieg never even tried to fight back and let himself be led. The moment Black Canary felt that no one would overhear them, the lecture began.

"What were you thinking?! You could have gotten yourself killed!" she all but screeched in outrage, at least keeping her voice down some levels. Krieg, as always, showed the usual apathy towards her rage.

"Could have, but did not," he retorted dully. Obviously the usual method of lecture was not going to work on him, so Black Canary tried something else.

"What possessed you to do such a crazy thing anyway?" she questioned sternly.

"You told me to investigate all possible locations. Unfortunately most of the areas backstage are off-limits to anyone not under Roulette's employment. Thereby, the fastest way to gain access to those areas would be to temporarily seek employment here, and unfortunately the only thing they are looking for are fighters willing to provide entertainment," he explained monotonously. A tired sigh came out of Black Canary as she rubbed her eyes. As much as she hated the idea, she could not deny that it held merit to it. If there was going to be any further words exchanged between them, it was put on hold when a lanky man came running towards them. the same one Krieg had spoken to earlier.

"Krieg, there you are! Just wanted to congratulate you on your performance," he announced excitedly with the biggest grin possible stretched across his face. "I must admit, neither Roulette nor me had any high hopes for you when you came and demanded a fight, but you sure as hell blew all those doubts away. I mean, the crowd loves you, and you're making us more money than ever expected!" he went on with his ramble, obviously not even noticing that Krieg was all but unmoved by his praise. "Anyway, here's your earning for tonight. Come back tomorrow and you'll make even more. Time and address are in the envelope," with that said, he handed Krieg an envelope containing the aforementioned objects before he sprinted back the way he came.

"Might I advise that we return to the Hall of Justice and report our progress to Batman?" Krieg suggested, to which Black Canary gave a short nod before leading the way towards the exit.

* * *

Well, that had certainly been an unexpected treat. Normally, these fights were hardly the most entertaining for someone of his caliber, but since there had been a lack of activity for him these past few days, he had made the decision to indulge himself with watching some senseless violence. Now he wondered whether it had been fate or just a mere coincidence that he had beheld. For what were the odds of them running into each other again in such a manner? Sure, he knew who the Justice was searching for here, but he had definitively not expected him to be sent, given how their last encounter had ended.

Yet here he was, fighting in Meta Brawl of all places. Of course, he suspected the real reason was to gain inside observations in the hopes of capturing their target. Even so, Krieg was truly an interesting individual, in more ways than one.

He had potential, that much was certain. Sure, his fighting style was more than a bit rough, but he displayed a level of improvisation. Yet it was not that which had caught his interest, it was the boy's mindset in the fight. He had been relentless against his enemy, shown a level of ferociousness that few heroes dared to use. He had also heard the tale of how Krieg had forced Sportsmaster to retreat without dealing out a single fist strike, by threatening to blow them all up. Now _that_ took a deep commitment to a cause that one could not help but admire.

Who knew, the boy might prove to be useful for him. Alas, this had all been gleamed by observation from afar, and it had only been one match. As stated earlier, the boy had potential, but he felt that a more thorough test was in order to truly gauge that potential. And when he said test, he most certainly did not refer to the pathetic excuses for villains that participated in these Meta Brawls. No, he felt that Krieg deserved a more… personal evaluation. It was for this reason that he currently stood outside Roulette's office. Without even knocking, he opened the door and stepped in. He found Roulette in the midst of some paperwork, and she was not overly happy to be interrupted.

"Get out! I'm busy here, and don't have time for…" of course, her little temper tantrum came to an abrupt end when she saw just _who_ was standing at her door. He could not help but feel a certain satisfaction in how most of the color drained from her face and she began stumbling over her own words in a frantic bid to apologize. _'The perks of having a reputation as dark as mine,'_

"I saw the fight with your newest addition. Quite a performance, don't you agree?" he asked politely. Roulette at that point looked like a sheep cornered by a wolf, dreading when the inevitable bite would come.

"Yes, he was quite a surprise," she answered. He had to at least give the woman credit, she said that whole sentence without stammering. Deciding to make her squirm some more in her seat, he began to casually stroll around in her office, as if inspecting the various decorations. He never even looked at her, giving off the feeling that he had lost interest in her. But he could see out of the corner of his eye how she nervously fidgeted in her seat. She obviously wanted to know his reason for coming here, but dared not be the first to speak. A cruel smirk formed underneath the mask he was wearing. He always did find enjoyment in toying with people like her.

"Is the boy expected to be back?" he finally asked with his back turned to her, to an onlooker apparently inspecting a framed diploma hanging on the wall. It was a clear sign of that he was in control of the situation, not her. It infuriated Roulette, but there was nothing she could do. If the man had wanted to, he could have killed her before she even knew what hit her.

"Yes, I expect him to be back tomorrow evening," she answered, doing her best to sound strong and confident. She failed at both. _'At least I didn't stammer,'_

"I would like to fight him," he finally announced, still denying her the dignity of facing her. The request caught her completely by surprise. Him, fighting Krieg? Such an event would be a million dollar cash cow!

"What's your sudden interest in fighting him?" she asked him. It may not have been the smartest action to do, but she could not just contain her curiosity. She was rewarded with the man finally turning to face her, though she wished that he had not done so as a murderous glare came right at her.

"That is my business, and does not concern you," he warned her. She was walking on thin ice here now, and there was no one around to drag her out of the water if it gave away. "Now I suggest you make the necessary arrangements," it was an order, not a request. It galled her to be pushed around like that, but survival came before pride.

"O-of course, Deathstroke. I'll see to it," she answered. It seemed to satisfy Deathstroke as he walked out of the office. The moment the door closed behind him, Roulette slumped into her seat in exhaustion. _'I need a drink,'_


	5. Chapter 5: Meta Brawl pt II

_Sorry for the late update, folks, I've been quite busy lately with my studies (first year in college, after all), but I finally managed to finish another chapter! Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

**Chapter 5: Meta Brawl pt. II**

Another kick came flying at Krieg, and he just barely dodged it. But the attacker was faster than expected and struck again. Krieg blocked a fist, nearly got swept off his feet, sidestepped a kick, blocked a second kick and dodged yet another fist. He struck out with an attack of his own, but his opponent grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him off balance before landing quite a painful blow to his stomach. He staggered back from the blow, feeling like keeling over and emptying his stomach, but he repressed the feeling and charged again. His body was drenched in sweat underneath his uniform, his muscles hurt like never before and the numerous swells and bruises adorning him were a constant reminder of his ineptitude.

He was just not good enough. Not strong enough, not fast enough, not even skilled enough. Made horribly clear in this moment as no matter how fast he struck, his opponent was just faster. As yet another punch overextended him, his opponent grabbed hold of that arm, flipped Krieg over her shoulder and slammed him with all her might into the floor. Every inch of breath was expunged from his lung by that blow, but he still climbed back to his feet. He was not giving up, not until he was dead would he give up. Which might be sooner than he hoped considering he was barely standing as it was. With wobbly steps, he charged yet again, and received yet another trashing before getting slammed back to the floor again.

"That's enough," his opponent ordered sternly while he was in the midst of crawling back up. Krieg ignored the statement and managed to fight his way back up on his feet, and he was off again. This time he never even got a chance to strike before he was swept off his feet and slammed face first to the floor. Yet still he persisted and tried to push himself back up. He did not get far before a weight on his back pushed him down again and his arms were trapped in an arm lock behind his back.

"I said that's enough," his opponent repeated more forcefully as she kept him pinned to the floor, "You've been training non-stop since daybreak already. You need to rest," if that was meant to make him more compliant, it sure as hell was not working in this instance.

"I don't have time to rest, Black Canary. I need more training," he retorted with that same monotone he was always using. But she did not relent and let him up, only tightening her hold on him.

"What you're doing is not training. You're just punishing yourself," she pointed out. Krieg may have lacked an extensive ability to express emotions of any kind, but he would be lying if he were to say that present circumstances were not grating on his nerves.

"That is irrelevant at this point. If I am going to have a chance in the Meta Brawls, I will need all the training I can get," Krieg countered. It should have been obvious to Black Canary. He had no superpowers, and the drillmasters back on Krieg had never given him and his fellow comrades an in-depth training in hand-to-hand combat, focusing more on weapon training. But here, he was prohibited from killing and thus had to rely on martial arts to incapacitate his opponents.

Because of this, he needed to train harder than ever before to reach the necessary levels required to survive in this war against crime he was partaking in. and while Black Canary was a formidable opponent and a very good teacher, he lamented over the fact that Batman was not training him. For he seemed to have something this woman lacked. The mindset to keep pushing on, no matter what. As illustrated here, Black Canary wanted him to quit his training because of some silly notion that he needed rest and recuperation.

Idiocy at its finest. Time was of the essence here. There was no time for such luxuries. His physical needs and wellbeing were of no concern at the moment, the mission was. Surely Batman would have realized it and not wasted time on such folly as Black Canary was doing now. He once again tried to push her off of him, but his exhausted body was no match for her, and he remained where he was.

"Keled," Okay, she must have been far more serious than he had expected if she used his real name, "I hereby order you to cease all of your training," now _that_, in Krieg's opinion, was playing very dirty. She knew full well he could not disobey a direct order like that. And in an uncharacteristic move on his part, he actually started to protest.

"But…"

"No buts, young man," she interrupted him harshly, "You will take a break, get something to eat and drink, rest up your muscles and you will not under any circumstances partake in anything that involves physical strain without my explicit permission. Do I make myself clear?" while Krieg would have loved to tell that xeno loving mutant just where she could shove her orders, it was not his place to disobey a direct order.

"Yes ma'am," he finally relented. And even though he could not see her face from his position, there was never a shred of doubt in his mind that she was smiling victoriously at him.

"Good. And just so we're clear, if I catch you training behind my back, I'll drag you all the way to the infirmary, strap you down to a bed and spoon feed you until you've recovered," in Krieg's opinion, she sounded far too cheerful when she said that tidbit of information. So with her threat delivered, she finally got off of him and offered a hand to help him back up, an act of kindness that was fully ignored by Krieg who struggled back up on his own. It seemed that with her point hammered in, Black Canary dropped her stern attitude in favor of a more concerned look.

"Look, I understand how you're feeling like you're not good enough. Normally, I would even commend you for your dedication, but pushing yourself to the brink of death like this won't do you any good. It'll only end up hurting you in the end," she tried to reason with him. Krieg heard her words, listened to the wisdom they held. But then he just discarded it when he came to the conclusion that her ideas would be counterproductive to his training. He did not bother with voicing his thoughts on the matter. He was going to obey her orders to the letter, that was enough for him.

It was at that moment that the doors to the Hall of Justice gym they were training in opened up and Batman entered. Mentally, Krieg was relieved by his arrival. Batman only approached Krieg in person when he had important matters to discuss with him, a refreshing experience compared to the vast majority of the Justice League. For they had the aggravating habit of constantly interfering with his duties for no apparent reason other than that they wanted to talk with him about irrelevant topics that often circulated around civilian matters.

"Good, you're both here," Batman began, but Krieg had the feeling that Batman already knew they would both be present before he even stepped through the door, "While I do not like the situation you've placed yourself in, Krieg, I expect you to return with results when you get back. Black Canary, you will be there as support should the need arise," straight to the point as always. Good, meant they could start sooner.

"Krieg, you may be officially fighting to entertain the crowd, but you're still not allowed to kill anyone," and there was the only fault he could find in Batman, his unwillingness to do what was necessary. Where he had developed this delusion of not killing, Krieg neither knew nor wanted to know. He naturally assumed that this small meeting was over, but he was proven wrong when Batman offered something to him.

"Given the situation, I felt that you might need some extra precaution," he clarified, as if he knew that Krieg had a look of confusion underneath his gasmask. But his statement still left Krieg in a state of confusion, for in contrast to his earlier order, Batman was holding out a gun for him.

"I thought I was not allowed to kill," Krieg said as he accepted the weapon and examined it carefully. It was definitively not of any model he was familiar with. The overall shape was reminiscent to a Desert Eagle, but it weighted far less than the real deal. It even had a small infrared scope attached to it.

"That's a modified firearm you're holding. It fires tranquilizer darts instead of regular bullets. There is of course a wide variety of ammunition you can fire with that gun, but all are non-lethal," Batman explained more thoroughly. While Krieg was not overly joyed by the fact that he was prohibited from using live ammo, he did feel a small sense of content of once again holding a tool that he was familiar with. Now it was just about waiting for the evening to begin, along with his mission.

* * *

The roar of the audience was the first that greeted Krieg as he entered Meta Brawl through one of the backdoors. Black Canary had already snuck in among the audience, so that left Krieg alone to do the dirty work. Just the way he preferred it. Word of his arrival must have spread faster than he expected, for he had barely been present for five minutes before that lanky man, whose name Krieg never even bothered trying to remember, came running up to him.

"Good to see that you made it! We currently have a fight going, but once they're finished, you're up," he announced cheerfully, to which Krieg only gave a faint nod. The fact that he had to endure this man's presence was good enough, he was not going to start up a conversation with him. So without uttering another word, he strode past the slimy little man and went to the locker rooms used by the combatants. He never reached his destination before he found his path blocked by seven individuals, fellow participants if their costumes were anything to go by.

"So you're the newcomer that floored Pain, eh? Can't honestly say that I'm impressed by what I'm seeing right now," the one at the front, a big brute of a man wearing a luchador wrestler themed costume, commented. _'A possible suspect,'_ Krieg mentally noted to himself.

"You're in my way," he replied monotonously. For reasons that escaped Krieg's understanding, most of these buffoons found his comment amusing as they laughed at him.

"What's the matter, kid? Don't like to hang around us?" another one, a girl this time with flowing green hair wearing a matching bodysuit, asked mockingly. _"Female, too small body to match the description, no suspect," _Krieg noted about her.

"No," was his answer to her question as he tried walking past the group, only to be stopped by a stick thin boy hanging from the roof upside down. The filthy mutant had the nerve to grin at him wickedly while their faces were only a few inches apart, displaying his razor sharp teeth.

"Not so fast, tough guy. You see, since you're new here, we felt that some ground rules were needed here," the filth said with that twisted smile still in place before he flipped over and landed on the floor on his feet. A sudden urge to plant a knife in the creature's throat came over Krieg at that moment, but he reluctantly suppressed it. Absentmindedly, he noticed that the other six were forming a semi-circle around him and the wall crawling one. Wait, not everyone, one of their numbers were leaning against the wall a distance away. His body, swelled to the brim by muscles underneath the black shirt and pants he was wearing, made him yet another suspect in Krieg's eye.

"Firstly, we've been in this business way longer than you. So outside the ring, you better do what we tell you," the mutant spoke, but Krieg was not listening to a single word spoken. He was instead scrutinizing the group surrounding him. There was another woman present beyond the green haired one, decked out in ninja garbs and wearing a mengu mask.

"Secondly, given that you're a newbie, we expect you not to try and steal the spotlight from us," there was also someone who Krieg had a hard time determining gender on. Long black hair cascaded down the back of this one, obscuring half his/her face. What parts of the face Krieg could see looked exactly like that of a young woman, but the flat chest made him doubt.

"Thirdly, failure to comply with the aforementioned rules will result in your ass getting kicked. Are there any questions, or have I made myself clear to you?" the last one was clearly a man, but that was all he could discern about him. From head to toe, his body was encased in silver armor, the only openings being two holes for his eyes and a few springs to let him breathe. And so, with his analysis done, Krieg decided it was time to move on. But first, he had to give an adequate answer to the thing still blocking his path.

His answer was a sudden kick between his legs and followed up by a blow to the head that sent him to the floor a whimpering mess. But he was not done yet, not by a longshot. With no remorse or hesitation, he placed a boot on the boy's back, grabbed hold of both his arms, bent them as far back as humanly possible and then tore them out of their sockets. The boy's shriek of pain was audible through the entire all, but was quickly drowned out by cheers from the crowd outside. _'Annoying pest,' _Krieg thought as he released the pathetic thing wailing like a babe. He let his eyes slowly travel over each one present, challenging them to dare confront him now. None did, so he swiftly turned his back to them and strode away.

Had he been more observant, he would have noticed that the entire event had been discreetly observed by a certain one eyed individual from the end of the hall. Said man's only reaction to Krieg's brutal action was an approving nod before he seemingly melted into the shadows.

As Krieg was about to enter the locker room, he hoped that he would get some peace and quiet now before he had to step into the cage, but his wish was turned to ash when the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor shook the entire building. Either the loser weighted far more than a human had the right to, or the winner had super strength. Hopefully it was the former. Barely a minute later, that lanky man came running with a smile on his face.

"Alright, you're up next, Krieg," he announced cheerfully. Krieg said not a single word, but altered his course towards the fight arena. The cheers of the vulgar crowd was the first thing that greeted him as he entered, followed closely by Roulette's introduction.

"And here he is. Ready to rumble yet again, Krieg! Will his luck from last time hold out, or will he meet his end against his newest opponent?" as she prattled on about Emperor knows what, Krieg tuned her out and focused all his attention on the woman standing opposite him. Hair trimmed until it was all but nonexistent on her scalp, Amazonian muscles bulging on her bare arms and legs, vicious scar running across her snarling face. She was the very image of a battle hardened soldier. _'This will be interesting,' _Krieg thought, for unlike those brainless abominations he ran into earlier, this one had a look in her eyes that said she had something useful behind that forehead of hers and knew how to use it.

"FIGHT!" and the fight commenced. The woman was instantly in motion, advancing on Krieg in a zigzag path. But Krieg himself remained motionless. Like a cobra, he was waiting for his prey to come closer. And when she finally was within range, he struck by rushing her like a mad bull. The distance between them was too short for the woman to do anything but brace herself as Krieg slammed into her shoulder first. She got the wind knocked out of her, but was quick to retaliate with a fist that knocked him back.

A spinning kick suddenly came at Krieg's head, forcing him to duck before sidestepping a punch. A retaliatory punch forced her back and Krieg pushed on with a flurry of boxing blows that she either dodged or blocked. But he was caught off guard when she dropped underneath his guard and came up with a haymaker that knocked him flat on his back. Stars spun in his line of sight for a few precious seconds, but years of combat training kicked in and he rolled clear of a drop kick that would have crushed his windpipe.

Pushing himself back up again, he struck out with a kick that she dodged, but left her unable to duck the sudden uppercut that nailed her straight in her stomach. A silent gasp of pain flew out of her mouth before Krieg grabbed her while she was doubled over and slammed her head into the metal cage. He aimed to repeat the procedure until she was out cold, but she firmly grasped the bars with her hands before lifting her legs up and wrapping them around his head. Muscles bulged as she squeezed her thighs together with the intent of strangling Krieg.

A sudden lack of oxygen caused Krieg to furiously pound her body with his fists. And even though his blows no doubt hurt like hell, given how her face scrunched up in pain, she refused to let go. His vision began to blacken as his empty lungs tried to suck in any shred of air they could get with no success. An idea suddenly struck him and he began to fumble to get his helmet off. When he got it off, he slammed it as hard as he could repeatedly into her. That seemed to do the trick, as her hold slackened and he managed to slip out. Both of them ended up collapsing on the floor battered and worn out. Like a diver breaching the surface, Krieg took in greedy gulps of air as he tried to gather his strength again. Luckily, his opponent was doing the same thing while massaging her battered stomach.

Around them, the roar of the audience grew louder and louder as they wanted more action. While Krieg would have very much appreciated the chance to silence their filthy mouths forever, he still stood back up. Seeing him getting ready to fight again, the woman stood back up as well. But Krieg gave her no time to recover and charged. She ducked under an elbow, rolled clear of a vicious kick and stepped back to avoid a savage punch. With some distance between them, she leaped at him again, tackling him into the bars. But he rammed his knee between her legs. While it was not as vulnerable as on a male, it still hurt and forced her back.

Krieg was on the move in no time and struck out with a kick, a punch, an elbow, another kick, a trio of punches and a sweeping kick. She was able to block all those except the last attack that swept her off her feet. A powerful stomp from his boot would have crushed her head had she not grabbed hold of it and pushed Krieg back. He nearly fell over, but balanced himself and attacked again just as she rolled back up again. Sidestepping a kick, she darted forth and slammed both fists into his stomach. But he ignored the pain and struck her in the back with an elbow, causing her to stumble forward before he spun around and delivered a punch that sent her flying to the ground.

She tried to stand back up again, but Krieg stomped down hard on her back. Yet still she persisted on getting back up to resume fighting. Had they not been enemies, Krieg would have respected that in her, but now her stubbornness was just a hindrance to him. So he delivered a kick to her side that flipped her over on her back, lifted up one of her legs and stomped on her knee. It shattered with an audible crack and Krieg bent it in a 90 degree angle, in the wrong direction.

No roars of approval were heard this time from the audience as they openly gawked at the brutal finishing move Krieg had just dealt out. The stunned silence, which was only broken by the woman's wails of pain, was a welcoming change for Krieg, it meant that these bloated heretics were not completely selfish. Sadly, that thought was shattered when someone started clapping, followed by more people. In no time, the audience was cheering him yet again, and Krieg felt his hand subconsciously twitch towards his hidden gun. With a sneer hidden behind his gasmask, he strode out of the cage, leaving his opponent to be attended by the group of medics rushing past him.

Though just before he disappeared from the audience's sight, he briefly found Black Canary seated close to the arena exit. And if that dark look she was giving him was any form of indication, she had plenty that she wanted to discuss with Krieg about. None of which would be pleasant for him. But he found something else to occupy his mind when he entered the locker room, for there was already someone else there, waiting for him. Long white hair tied back in a ponytail, white beard and mustache and an eye patch covering his right eye. Those were the most defining features of this man.

But even as the man sat slouched on bench, Krieg was never under any kind of delusion that this man was harmless. He could not fully place it, but being near this man was setting off alarm bells in his head, telling him to be on guard. Krieg was never one to ignore his instincts, so he carefully kept his distance and never let his eyes stray from the man as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"Quite a performance you gave out there. No doubt it will make you quite notorious around here," the man spoke up. Whether he was complimenting Krieg or not, he neither knew nor cared as he eyed the man suspiciously.

"Identify yourself," Krieg ordered as he drew his gun. The man was not a known Justice League member, nor was he one of Roulette's henchmen. The missing eye told the tale of someone used to combat, so it was best to be cautious when dealing with him. The man held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, a gesture that was wasted on Krieg.

"I'm not here to harm you," the man assured Krieg. Had he been a more expressive person, he would have snorted at that claim. Being who he was, he just raised the gun and aimed it at the man's chest. Words meant little to Krieg, for they could easily be used to lie and deceit someone.

"If you do not have immediate business with me, then leave," Krieg said. Dancing around an issue was never his way, so he would just approach it bluntly. The man just chuckled at his attempt at authority.

"Not very trusting of strangers, are you?" he asked humorously.

"You have not given me a reason to trust you so far," Krieg answered monotonously. A shrug was what he received from the man.

"True, but what reason would you have to be on guard against a humble old man, who could possibly not pose a threat to you?" he inquired with a small level of curiosity. Krieg was quick to counter that claim.

"Old you may be, but that does not make you any less dangerous," he countered, gun still aimed at the old man. Rather than be on guard, or even feel threatened, the man just smiled at Krieg.

"Smart move. You have no idea how many idiots who've fallen for that ruse," he commented in amusement. Krieg did not budge in the least.

"Last warning. Either tell me what you're doing here or leave," Normally, Krieg would have never even given a first warning, but he could not jeopardize the mission by starting a brawl here. Nevertheless, he would use force if the old man did not back down.

"And why should I?" he asked lightly, as if he was completely untroubled by the current events. Krieg had never been much of a patient person, and what little he had to begin with had just evaporated. Without so much as a millisecond's thought, he pulled the trigger. But to his utter amazement, the old man actually dodged the dart. And with superhuman speed, he had drawn a concealed gun and aimed it at Krieg. A tense standoff ensued, were both waited to see who would pull the trigger first.

"Hm, interesting," the old man mused out loud, "Judging by the lack of a bang when you pulled the trigger, and the fact that I never heard the telltale sound of a bullet hitting steel, I can only assume that you're not loaded with lethal bullets. More likely tranquil darts, if my intuition serves me right," here, his earlier inquisitive look turned a bit more accusing, "But that shot. Had I not dodged it, it would have hit me in the heart, or close enough that I would die in a matter of minutes. You meant for it to be a kill shot,"

Why the man was wasting time pointing out the obvious, Krieg had absolutely no idea. A small chuckle came out of the old man as he rose to his full height, still aiming his gun at Krieg.

"Put a leash on a lion, and it will still be a lion," he mused out loud. An eyebrow was raised from behind Krieg's mask.

"Is your blabbering supposed to distract me?" he asked monotonously.

"No such thing. Just thinking out loud here," the old man answered truthfully. He suddenly began moving, slowly edging around Krieg. Neither of them lowered their guns during this, and both had their eyes firmly locked on each other.

"Well I must say, this has been an interesting visit, but I must be going now," the old man spoke up, a smile starting to form on his face. His response produced a frown from Krieg.

"Are you planning on walking out of here without revealing your reason for bothering me?" he questioned as he moved to block his path. This man just screamed dangerous, and Krieg was not letting him leave that easily, not without answering him at least.

"If you're so eager to know, I merely wished to meet you, face to face, without outside interference," the old man answered. But before Krieg could even begin to formulate another word, the old man struck with surprising speed. He grasped Krieg's arm holding the gun and performed a judo throw on him, slamming Krieg into the floor. Sudden pain radiated through his entire spine, but he ignored it and struck out with a kick that forced his opponent back before flipping himself up on his feet. But by that time, the old man had already fled through the door.

He briefly considered chasing after him, but discarded the idea. His mission was to locate the robber, not go chasing after old men. So with an irritated grunt, he holstered his gun and stretched his battered spine. But as he took a seat, hoping to catch some time recovering before getting thrown out into the ring again, the sound of rapid footsteps taken with the grace of an elephant could be heard approaching. He was up from his seat, straight as a steel pipe, in record time. He already knew who would walk in long before said person even opened the door and stepped in.

"Black Canary," he greeted her as she closed the door behind her. He had expected that she demand a report on his progress so far, but when she rounded on him, she had a furious look in her eyes that spelled trouble.

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing out there?" she demanded of him, her voice deceptively calm. This was most certainly not how he expected their conversation to start, not by a longshot.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in confusion. That harmless question seemed to spike her anger even further.

"Don't play dumb with me, kid! You know damn well what you did wrong here!" her voice was now starting to rise in level, being just a few octaves below screaming. If that was meant clear matters up for Krieg, they sure failed monumentally.

"I'm afraid that I truly do not grasp what I did wrong," he answered truthfully. Had he not finished the fight fast enough? Had he been supposed to kill his opponent after all?

"You broke her leg, dammit!" Black Canary finally stated. Yet still Krieg had trouble seeing just what he did wrong.

"I fail to see the trouble in my action," he admitted straight faced. Her look of anger towards him now also received a small tint of disbelief at his admission.

"You had already beaten her, you did not need to be so brutal towards her. For crying out loud, you broke her leg! Doctors say it will be months before she recovers!"

"I still fail to see the trouble," Krieg said with an unconcerned shrug. Black Canary was by now gaping like a fish at his answer. Krieg truly tried to grasp what she was so displeased about, but came up empty no matter how he twisted and turned the matter. But even as curiosity ate away at him, he still dutifully stood at attention and awaited her next words.

"We don't do that kind of thing. We fight only to incapacitate our enemy, not beat on them when they're already defeated," she clarified to him. Behind his gasmask, Krieg's brows furrowed in annoyance. He was already restricting himself by not killing his opponents, was that not enough for the buffoons?

"She was determined to continue the fight, I merely made sure that it would not be possible for her," he defended himself. However, that excuse was not enough to escape Black Canary's ire.

"That's not how heroes act! We try to restrain ourselves, otherwise we're no better than those we fight!" she pointed out, emphasizing by poking him hard in the chest.

"I did restrain myself out there by not killing her," Krieg countered calmly, "Now I must remind you that my next match can begin any second, so I would suggest that we get to the important matters here,"

Despite her best efforts to suppress it, Black Canary could still not contain the resigned sigh that came out of her mouth. No matter how hard she tried to explain it, Krieg would not just grasp what she was trying to convey. There was no reasoning with him, and it made her sad to see such a young boy with such fanatical devotion to a mass murdering cause. Nevertheless, he had a point here, so Canary just had to shelf their argument for a later date.

"Any progress then?" she asked. Now that was a topic of discussion that Krieg could understand infinitively better.

"I have counted seven other participants, but only three of them have the size and build to be a suspect. I have so far not learned their names, but I will begin a more thorough investigation once Roulette decides that I am done for the evening," he reported, slipping back into his soldier mindset with ease. Black Canary merely nodded her head in contemplation. An awkward silence, in Black Canary's opinion at least, descended over the pair, but which ended when someone suddenly knocked on the door.

"Krieg, you're up in five," someone said from the other side, making the whole affair sound he was just getting ready to get up on stage and perform for the audience. Then again, maybe it was not that far away from the truth after all.

"Just try to show more restraint this time," Black Canary implored of him, to which he said nothing and made his way towards the door.

"And Krieg," she suddenly added just as he was about to exit, causing him to pause at the threshold but otherwise not reacting, "be careful out here," and there she went with that useless sense of sympathy for him. He was a soldier, being careful is not something he can afford. So without even hinting at having acknowledged her words, he left and headed towards the cage. As he emerged into the blinding light created by the hundreds of spotlight shining down upon him, he was once again greeted by Roulette's prattling and the vulgar crowd's continuous applause.

"Having barely been here for two days, and already he's beaten two of our best fighters! But how will he fare against his newest opponent?" damn, did that infuriating woman ever shut up? There was an expression that Krieg had once heard when referring to people who liked to talk a lot, it went something like "he sure likes the sound of his voice". If an appropriate measurement was applied here, then Krieg was certain beyond any doubt that Roulette had become addicted to hearing her own voice.

"Here exclusively for tonight's fight, is the man recognized as the world's deadliest assassin. The unstoppable killing machine known as Deathstroke the Terminator!" Krieg would be the first to admit that he had not been present in this world long enough to familiarize himself with the world's rogue gallery, so he felt a bit out of the loop when every single spectator turned as quiet as a corpse. If their reaction was anything to go by, his new opponent was in a whole other league than those he had previously fought.

But when this Deathstroke finally stepped into the cage, Krieg felt his eyebrows shoot up in recognition. There was never any doubt to Krieg, this was the same man who Batman had fought when Krieg had first appeared in this world. Everything about him looked just the way he remembered it. But that single eye and the long white hair tied in a ponytail, it looked similar to another individual he just recently met.

"FIGHT!" but Krieg was never given more time to contemplate, as Deathstroke was already in motion. And dammit was he fast. He was in front of Krieg in a matter of seconds, letting loose with fists and kicks that Krieg just barely managed to keep up with. He dodged left, he dodged right, he blocked an uppercut, received a side blow, ducked under a follow-up blow, rolled clear of a powerful kick, knocked aside a fist aimed for his face, blocked a sudden kick, ducked under a spinning kick, dodged an uppercut and caught a fist meant to crush his throat.

But that small victory proved useless as a kick knocked him back and forced him to let go of Deathstroke. He did not even have time to straighten himself again before Deathstroke flipped right over him. Krieg had dearly wanted to turned around and face him again, but did not receive the chance to do just that since Deathstroke hit with multiple blows. He must have hit quite a few tender areas as well, since such an intense pain struck Krieg that he collapsed to his knees. If Pain's power had made him feel like getting doused in burning promethium, this was more akin having his flesh ripped off his back before getting his spine broken. But he would be damned if this brought him down, so he staggered back up with gritted teeth to face his opponent again.

"Impressive, few would have had the strength to still stand at this point, or been able to keep up as well as you did," Deathstroke complimented from where he was standing. Krieg was not fooled. His clinical eyes could see the telltale signs about the skills of his opponent. His whole posture was relaxed, his clothes were not even a bit damp from sweat and his breathing was so steady and quiet that Krieg could barely hear it. It was clear to Krieg; Deathstroke was for some reason holding back against him.

That did not however deter Krieg in the slightest, despite his throbbing back, and he charged at Deathstroke. His first punch was easily sidestepped by Deathstroke, and so was the second, third and fourth. At the fifth, Deathstroke seemed to have had enough and caught it in his hand. That was what Krieg had betted on and instantly struck out with a kick. Yet Deathstroke's reflexes proved too good and he leaped clear. Not about to lose the initiative, Krieg attacked again, opening up with an uppercut that was dodged and followed with a spinning kick that was caught. He was thrown back but regained his balance quick enough to roll clear of a return strike from Deathstroke.

Getting back on his feet, he struck out again with a punch that was deflected. Krieg meant to strike again, but a backhanded blow from Deathstroke rattled his head inside his mask and left him open for a double fisted blow to his stomach. By sheer willpower alone did Krieg keep its content where it belonged while mustering up enough strength to lash out at Deathstroke with an uppercut that he leaped clear of. By now, all Krieg's body wanted was to fall over and not get back up ever again. His muscles were starting to ache, his spine was still battered and now he felt like his insides had been turned to mush. His pain must have been obvious, given how he was struggling not to double over. But he would not give up, not now, not ever. The day that Krieg stopped fighting was the day he died.

So he forced his body forward again, slowly at first, but eventually building up momentum. Deathstroke meanwhile had been kind enough, or stupid in Krieg's opinion, and allowed him to recover. Now he was in motion again, ducking under a blow from Krieg, jumping clear of a kick, sidestepping a sluggish punch and just kept on avoiding every attack Krieg threw at him. Feeling emotions were never something Krieg excelled at, but now he felt a good dosage of frustration. Deathstroke was no longer even trying to strike back. He was just toying with Krieg now.

"Why do you keep fighting? It's obvious you can't beat me, so why prolong the inevitable?" Deathstroke asked as he kept nonchalantly dodging all of Krieg's attacks. He received no answer, as Krieg was not someone who enjoyed wasting time talking. He brought his right arm back, as if in preparation for a strike, and Deathstroke made ready to avoid it. He was therefore caught unprepared when Krieg struck with his left leg instead. He nearly got unbalanced by the move, but recovered in time to deflect a punch aimed for his head.

"Giving up isn't something you know how to do, right? You always keep fighting, despite knowing the odds. You're someone who would rather die than admit defeat," Deathstroke commented just as another punch came his way. He easily caught it and bent the arm to the point of breaking it, "Just like me," he added right before he drove a knee straight into Krieg's stomach while letting go of his arm. Yet even then, with nearly all his strength spent, did Krieg refuse to give up and took an unsteady step towards Deathstroke. He was rewarded for his tenacity with an elbow strike to his shoulder, with enough force behind it to leave him flat on the ground.

Yet still he tried to crawl back up on his feet and continue fighting. He did not get that far before he was pushed back to the floor by Deathstroke's weight, who pressed his knee into Krieg's spine to keep him down.

"Nice work, kid. A little rough around the edges, but that can be easily rectified with the right training," he said appraisingly. From his position face down on the floor, Krieg tried his best to turn his head enough to get Deathstroke within his line of sight.

"What… are you… talking about?" he asked, barely able to breathe, let alone speak with Deathstroke's weight on his back. But Deathstroke never answered his question, as he just kept talking as if he had not heard him.

"Congratulation, Krieg. You passed my first test," he announced, speaking quietly enough that only Krieg could hear his words. If he had been confused by his words before, Krieg was now downright perplexed.

"What… test?" he just managed to force out of his constricted lungs. A light chuckle was his first, and highly annoying, answer.

"That's something for another day. For now, I believe you've earned a reward for efforts," Deathstroke commented, "I know you're here with Black Canary, no doubt looking for the robbers that are all over the news," if Krieg was in any way surprised by his knowledge, he shoved no signs of it, "and I happen to know the identity of one of them, their Meta human to be precise," now that garnered a reaction out of Krieg, who became stiff as a board.

"His name is Malcolm Angelo. You ran into him before, when you first got here this evening. He was the one in black clothes," Deathstroke's information on the matter created two questions in Krieg's mind. The first one was how in the name of the Emperor he had known about Krieg's earlier confrontation. The second question however was far more important in his eyes.

"Why would… you tell me… this?" he asked suspiciously, hoping that Deathstroke at least would be fast in giving him an answer since he was starting to see black dots at the edge of his vision.

"Like I told you earlier, it is my reward for your hard work," he answered truthfully, "I can also add that they're planning on leaving town soon, so you and Black Canary better hurry up if you want to catch them," with that said, he finally go off of Krieg, allowing oxygen to once again freely flow into his lungs. He was suddenly flipped onto his back and ended up staring at Deathstroke's masked face.

"This won't be the last time, Krieg. We'll meet again in the future. But for now, sleep tight," Krieg was left to ponder about his last words for about a second before a fist descended on his face. Then all became dark for him.

* * *

Blackness was the first thing that greeted Krieg when he regained consciousness. It only took a few moments for Krieg to realize that the darkness he was seeing was in fact the insides of his eyelids. It took him far longer to piece together his fragmented memory of tonight's events. When the last piece had fallen back in place, he was left with an intriguing mix of disappointment and confusion.

The first emotion was directed at himself. Despite his training and preparations, he had still ended up getting bested by his opponent. Granted, it had been an opponent who no one had accounted for being present, but it was no excuse for Krieg. If he was going to continue on his path, he needed to be the best he could be. This defeat meant he would just have to train even harder in the future, Black Canary and her illogical ideas be damned.

Now the second emotion was spawned from Deathstroke's words. He spoke of a test, of them crossing paths in the future. It made Krieg wonder about him. He was obviously not like the lowlife wasting their lives in this hellhole. No, he was apparently one of those infamous villains running around the globe, causing mayhem for whatever their twisted reason might be. So what had he been doing here? Surely it had not been purely to fight him, right?

Either way, his thoughts on the matter would have to wait for another time, as Krieg had finally mustered enough strength to actually open his eyes again. The blinding light from the overhanging lamp almost made him close them again, but he persevered and forced them open all the way. Though bleary at first, his surroundings eventually became more defined as his eyes adjusted to being used once again. A bundle of blonde hair stationed at the edge of his peripheral vision made him slowly turn his head in that direction while trying to push himself upright. That small action apparently alerted the blonde hair's owner that he was awake, for he found himself being gently pressed back down by a delicate hand on his chest.

"Lie still, you've not fully recovered yet," the soothing voice of Black Canary told him when he tried to fight the hand off. Accepting her words as an order, he relaxed again and fully turned his head to stare at her. Once again, he found that exaggerated concern of hers dominating her face. Though she seemed a bit relieved now.

"Thank God you're awake at least. With the beating you took, I was afraid that he'd kill you," she admitted as she sat back down on the chair she had previously occupied, "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. Had I known _he_ would have been there, I would have never let you fight," her sudden apology made Krieg yet again confused. If the reason for all these conflicting events were the result of emotions, then Krieg was relieved he lacked those.

"Your apology is not necessary, Black Canary. This is simply the reality of fighting a war," he commented monotonously. Before she could say something in response, Krieg went on, "I have gained a possible lead concerning the identity of our Meta human robber. It points towards one Malcolm Angelo,"

Black Canary's eyebrows furrowed I thought as she contemplated this sudden development, "Where did you get this information?" naturally, the first thing she asked was exactly what Krieg had expected.

"The source of the tip was Deathstroke. Therefore, given his role as a villain, I am uncertain as to the truthfulness of his words," he informed her. Surprise was clearly written all over her face when she heard that, but she was quick to collect herself again.

"Nevertheless, it's the best lead we got so far. I'll investigate it while you stay here and recover," now that last bit was not something Krieg was overly pleased with. He was about to object, but was silenced when Black Canary gave him such a sharp glare that it could have cut through adamantium. Krieg wisely kept his mouth shut and Black Canary left the room soon after. _'Defeated by a mere glare. Now that's a new low for me,'_

* * *

With silent steps, Black Canary made her way to where this Malcolm Angelo was currently hiding. Once she found the door leading inside the room he was occupying, she carefully leaned against the door to eavesdrop on their conversation. And from the sound of things, she had hit the jackpot.

"I'm telling you man, that woman is looking for us! She should just book it before we end up behind bars!" one of them pleaded, obviously feeling that flight was the more prudent action.

"Run away? Are you kidding me? We haven't even hit a bank yet in this town. Besides, that dumb broad won't even know we were here," someone else stated, making Black Canary wish she had that little twerp in her hands right about now. Someone suddenly snorted, obviously taking issues with those words.

"Who died and made you king?" someone asked in disdain. Seemed like the gang had trouble with leadership at the moment.

"You wanna arm-wrestle me for it?" the second man who had spoken countered challengingly. From the sound of things, they were about to come to blows with one another. Black Canary had a hard time deciding whether that was a good thing or not. Unfortunately, events quickly spiraled downhill from there, all because of one man who had needed to find a bathroom, and upon his return displayed a surprising amount of stealth.

"Gotcha!" he cried out in triumph as he tackled Black Canary from behind, causing them both to tumble through the door. While starting out on top of her, the fourth robber eventually ended up getting flung off her to impact painfully against the wall. Black Canary was swiftly back up on her feet, ready to face the three remaining robbers, one of which happened to be more than twice her size.

"Well, this just got rather awkward," the big one, most likely the Meta, commented. Had her situation not been as dire as it was, she would have openly agreed with him. He suddenly shrugged his shoulders, as if he had been part of some silent conversation.

"Eh, what the heck? Might as well take the chance to axe off a Justice League member. One less pest to worry about down the line," he announced nonchalantly, as if fighting Black Canary and planning to kill her was an everyday occurrence to him. Maybe that last part actually was.

The other members of the gang seemed to get the hint and backed away to make room for the two metas to fight. Canary did not feel like getting engaged in a prolonged fight, so she readied to use her infamous Canary cry on him. Malcolm however must have guessed her intention as he swiftly attacked. She was forced to duck under a swing, leap clear of a kick that left a hole in the floor, sidestep another punch and deflect an uppercut. That last one nearly threw her off her feet, but she regained her balance and struck back by leaping right over him and struck out at the back of his legs. It was like trying to break a pair of oak trees with a simple kick, and she was forced to retreat as he attacked like a berserker, swinging his fists wildly.

She tried putting some distance between them to fire off her Canary cry again, but Malcolm would have none of it and pushed on. Black Canary tried to hit him back multiple times, but his dense muscles were harder than rocks, and her human strength was not even enough to bruise him. And she was starting to run out of space to keep dodging his attacks. A rather vicious kick came at her and she was forced to leap back. Absentmindedly, she noticed that she was being driven into a corner by the brute. Not good, not good at all.

And while they were fighting it out with each other, the three remaining robbers watched the spectacle in amusement, obviously taking a form of perverse pleasure from seeing their Meta companion beating up a League member. However, one of their numbers realized that something was amiss when he felt something sting him in the neck. Instinctual reflexes had him reaching for the area he felt the sting, and his fingers brushed over something embedded in his neck. His confusion on the matter only lasted for a few seconds, for then he fell over unconscious. Surprise dulled the reaction of the last two, and they were therefore quick to join their comrade on the floor with matching darts in their necks.

Meanwhile, the two Metas fighting had still not noticed the events occurring around them and were still throwing attacks at each other. Black Canary ducked under a powerful punch that ended up getting embedded in the wall. Like a viper, she struck out with a quick blow at his armpits before darting out of his range. It seemed to only enrage the behemoth as he tore his arm free with a roar. He made ready to charge Black Canary again, intent on crushing her like a bug. He never got that far before someone suddenly leaped on his back, trapping his head in a chokehold.

"Hey! Get off of me, you little shrimp!" Malcolm roared in outrage, not even noticing that his opponent was trying to strangle him. His throat muscles were too strong to be closed off. His unexpected piggyback riding opponent however did not answer him, instead calling out to Black Canary.

"Use your Canary cry!" he shouted, and it was only now that she recognized just who had interfered.

"Krieg?!" she called out in horrified confusion. Just what was that kid thinking he was doing now?

"Do it! Now! I can't hold him forever!" he shouted back. And he was correct. The brute was buckling like an out of control bull, threatening to throw him off him. If that happened, they were both screwed. But Canary hesitated. Naturally, she did not want to hit her partner with her attack. But even she recognized the dire situation they were in. so with a deep breath taken, she let loose with her Canary cry. The effect was instantaneous. Krieg was flung away like a ragdoll to smash painfully against the wall, while Malcolm staggered back. His body may have been impervious to most blows, but his hearing was not as protected.

He tried to push forward, ignoring the amount of sonic power smashing into him like a freight train. It proved to be too much in the end, and he was flung back, out like a candle before he even hit the ground. With the threat neutralized, she rushed over to the barely conscious Krieg.

"Oh my god! Krieg, can you hear me? Are you alight? Say something!" she fired off in such a hurry that one could barely keep up with her. Then again, she did just hit her partner with her strongest attack, she probably reserved the right to become a little panicked. Krieg's head lolled back and forth a bit until his eyes finally came to rest upon Black Canary.

"I can hear bells ringing," he admitted, voice a bit sluggish as he tried getting back his bearings. _'Note to self; never get hit by that thing again,'_ he thought, not even trying to get back up on his own this time. His ability to still form coherent sentences seemed to calm Black Canary down to some degrees. So now she no longer looked like she wanted to hug him to death. Instead her expression twisted into a state that showed that she may have wanted to strangle him to death instead.

"Just what the hell were you thinking?!" as if those bloody bells in his ears were not bad enough, now she started screaming at him in anger.

"You needed time to fire off your Canary cry, I gave you all the time you needed," he answered. Sadly that explanation did not satisfy her. If anything, it infuriated her even more.

"You can't just throw yourself into harmful situations like that! What if you'd gotten hurt even worse? What if you'd died?" she tried to argue with him. He almost felt like snorting at her words. She spoke as if he was ignorant of the dangers in his actions. He had been fully aware of them long before he even attacked Malcolm.

"A small price to pay for victory," he replied monotonously. Black Canary had definitively a few choice words to say about, but decided against it. He would not listen anyway. But she was not giving up. She was determined to snap him out of his kamikaze victory-at-all-costs attitude.

"Let's just call the League and inform them of the situation," she eventually said, but when he tried to stand back up, he was halted by a sharp glare from her, "And you stay right where you are until I say otherwise, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," was all he said as he settled back down again.


End file.
